


Seeking Kindness

by somethingclever



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe- No Powers, Coerced marriage but not with Steve and tony, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Non-graphic dubcon, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, steve/tony is main pairing and main focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-09-14 06:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 30,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16908213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingclever/pseuds/somethingclever
Summary: Medieval au.Steven, son of Roger, lately wed to a Lord of the realm, is sent to King Anthony Stark’s court to present himself as a newly minted Lord-by-unhappy-marriage.Tony might be a little in love.Steve might be in a little trouble.





	1. Welcome to Court

There was something lovely about encountering beauty where none was expected. A flower growing from pavestone cracks, a well-beaten blade glowing hot from the forge before it was plunged into cold water to harden, and a new courtier presented at Tony’s Court, so clearly born common and unfortunate in marriage.   
  
And so damned beautiful.   
  
Steven, son of Roger, unworthy of a last name until wed to Lord Sosa, but Tony would be damned if he called him Steven Sosa. His husband suited him ill, as cold water to a bright blade or dirty stones to a wildflower.

Charles Sosa was a petty, tyrannical  _ bastard,  _ and he had made the lives of all the squires miserable, when Tony had been a squire with Rhodey.  He was of the sort who would take younger boy’s meals, or force them to do his chores. He also set dogs on cats, or each other. Only Tony’s position had protected him, and that, only barely.

What on earth was he doing with a creature so lovely as the one bowing to Tony now?

  
Tony accepted his bow, and his own mouth formed the words of accepting him to his court, congratulating him upon his marriage (and that brought no pretty blush of a pleased young thing, confident of the move upwards in society at the cost of one’s innocence, but a tightening of the young man’s mouth and lowered eyes, a low-murmured ‘yes, my King, most fortunate ‘ through tight-clenched teeth) and Steven began to back away, presentation made as was proper, preparing to retreat to where his husband’s standing would see him placed, at the outer edge of the courtiers, far removed from Tony.   
  
Tony liked pretty things.   
  
Tony did not like Lord Sosa.   
  
Tony also could not like that said Lord had sent his new spouse forward with no entourage, hastily taught court manners, and an accent that still bespoke his birth.  His hands, though clean, had not been scrubbed of calluses, nor had even there been a relative of Lord Sosa- not even that sycophant Zola- to present him. He had been forced to walk the length of the court alone, bear whispering tongues and snide looks and Tony had seen one or two rub at their noses and dare to laugh at the poor boy, though no scent of stable or merchant’s stall clung to him.    
  
He had had to come to the foot of the throne and present himself. 

  
Truly, that took courage. It happened, sometimes, though rarely, and generally, whatever poor lesser Lord or Lady had the need to so present themselves to the Court had reddened cheeks and in a few cases, teary eyes.     
  
Steven did not. He held his head high, and his eyes were fierce and sharp, his voice clear, though low, and he put effort into speaking his name.   
  
And the pride to remember he had had a father, before he married a Lord.   
  
Tony knew what it was like, to bear those eyes and hear the low laughter and whispered words.  He’d been young, once, and not a King.   
  
He made a decision when he saw Lady Bain- Sunset- smile and whisper to her companion, Lord Stone, her hand making a crude gesture as an aside, a comment upon why the young man- boy, nearly, though his voice was deep- had caught the eye of the Lord Alchemist.   
  
“Do sit down,” Tony said to Steven, who halted mid-step, eyes snapping to Tony’s face.   
  
It was fun, sometimes, to see people scramble like actors upon a stage when a script is changed suddenly.    
  
“My King?”   
  
Brave, and stupid, and beautiful, and Tony couldn’t help but want to like him, with that combination of charms.  “Yes, thank you, Rhodey, for fetching a seat. Be seated, and tell me about-“ he looked him over, searching for a clue, a topic he might plausibly wish to discuss with the new husband of an ill-favored Lord, “About-“   
  
“I saw your gearwork carriage,” Steven blurted, as if interrupting a King was something one could do with impunity, “It was wonderful.”

 

“That toy? It didn’t even work,” Tony forced a laugh for his court, his frustration with the damned thing welling up again, and why couldn’t he have been impressed by the godsbedamned siege engines? Or the gearwork arrow-caster? Or- anything but that toy he’d made?   
  


A waste of time, he’d been told often enough.  The shame of it almost outweighed the joy he’d had in creating it, in making it  _ work.  _

  
Steven tilted his head, “But it could,” he said, “And what’s more, our smithy saw how it came together, when they were taking the exhibition apart, and he created an apparatus for the well, and so  _ everyone _ could draw water. Not just the strong and healthy.”

  
“What?” How- oh. oh, yes, it could, if simply attached to a pumping mechanism, and if he added a boiler- why-   
  
“Our smith made gears and built a replica engine, and it pumped water from the well to a trough. It was a gift to us, to- To have that.”    
  
“Did you all use the water to bathe?” A courtier murmured, sotto voce, and Steve flushed then, as he hadn’t when asked about his husband, “How thrilling that must have been for your village.”

Tony didn’t find the flush as becoming as he’d thought he might, “Well,” he said sharply, “I’m glad to hear the damned thing was of some use. And-“ Oh, Pepper would be angry, but- “Speaking of baths, I think I’d like to have you serve as a Gentleman of the Bathing Chamber.”   
  
Amazing that the fires stayed lit, with such a vast intake of breath throughout the chamber.    
  
Tony liked it. Yes, good plan, he thought. Make it clear to all he had heard the crude commentary and cruelty aimed at the young man- and show that this King, unlike the last, was unamused by such sharp sarcasm. Hopefully, they learned sooner rather than later- he had been trying to impress it upon them for over a year, now. It would seem his lessons needed to become more… impactful, say, than a witty retort or raised brow.

 

Steven would do as his blunt instrument, and benefit greatly thereby himself. More a sword, actually, Tony thought, smiling to himself, as Sosa would also be cut a bit by this blow.  There was also the small matter of Tony wishing to speak to him more, and to rest his eyes upon him.

  
Steven didn’t seem as impressed as Tony had thought he would be. “Thank you, Majesty,” Rhodey prompted through his teeth.   
  
“You- need help bathing? I-“ Oh, he was just so precious. No, he definitely couldn’t regret keeping something so pure to himself. And how the hell Sosa, of all people, got someone so lovely-

 

Steve’s face was both pale and flushed, and his hands knotted together in front of him as if he were bound. “If it pleases the King,” he said quietly, and the Court was an uproar about them, but he didn’t seem pleased or proud-   
  
Ah. He thought himself the subject of more mockery. There was little Tony could do just then to ease that wounded pride, except offer a small smile and a subtle ‘stand over by Rhodes’ hand motion- Court must continue its dance, after all.    
  
The Kingdom wouldn’t halt for Tony to comfort the newest member of his Cabinet- or for much of anything, really, short of a snowstorm.   
  
Back to the grind, moment of beauty set aside to enjoy later, at his leisure.   
  
After all, Steven of Roger was his, now.   
  
He’d said so- and he was King.

 

The day at Court dragged, only periodically brightened by looking to Rhodey’s left to see his newest Household member as he stood, watching the room.  Likely Tony should tell him he’d have an easier time of it were his face not to speak his mind so clearly, but then, Tony would not know what he thought-   
  
And he found that the idea of that sat ill with him.  It was rare to see someone honest at court. At least, honest outside of a question to do with fashion or feasts.     
  


Yes, he’d made the right choice. 


	2. Entering Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is not having a great day. He was supposed to present himself, and then literally bow out. 
> 
> Now, he’s some sort of chamber maid?

Steve stood where Lord Rhodes placed him- he was a wonderfully direct man, with a sharp smile and cautious eyes.  Steve kept his eyes down, as the King continued his court-day. Standing at ease was familiar enough he could allow himself to rest a little, and for his mind to wander. After all, it was unlikely anyone would speak to him!

  
He’d honestly expected he would be back on the road to Brooklyn Town and his husband (hah!) by now, his court appearance made, his marriage acknowledged, and Lord Sosa appeased enough to make him kind (he couldn’t even pretend to laugh at that).  
  
That was not the case, as the King seemed to have decided that Steve should play the part of a chamber-maid, and one did not say no to Kings, not when one’s husband would be excessively displeased to hear of it. Displeasure, like water and shit, flowed best downhill. Steve had been a soldier, and before that, a midwife’s son, and, had he any lover at all, it would be Lady Hardship and Hard Knocks.  So he would obey, and keep his tongue behind his teeth, because for all that Steve did not care for bullies, wherever they came from, he was also no fool.  
  
And besides, only he would suffer, and really, what kind of suffering was serving as a chamber-maid? It was honest work.   
  
It could be worse, he could be locked in a prison for a debt not his own, he thought grimly.   
  
So, he would do it, then he would go back to Brooklyn Town, and he would bear up, as ever.   
  
*  
Court was released for the day and Steve was not.  He kept his sigh in his lungs and obediently followed Lord Rhodes and His Majesty from the vast hall to a small, private one, where a fire warmed the air enough that Steve felt some of his muscles- cramped from a long, cold ride in a jouncing carriage followed by a long day standing in a chilly room- begin to ease. The long table was laid with food- a feast to his eyes.   
  
He turned from it to look over the fine tapestries on the wall, setting himself to stand at the pleasure of the King, confident he’d be told what His Majesty wanted him to do, to serve.  He’d served at enough tables while hungry himself that his pinching belly was very nearly a comfort in its familiarity- the first truly familiar experience he’d had since he had first spoken to Lord Sosa and cometo an agreement.

  
Don’t think of him if you don’t have to, he thought pragmatically, and let his gaze stray from the walls to the King, instead.  The King was looking at him, too, in much the way Steve had looked at the roasted meat in its tray.  
  
Ah.  
  
Well.

 

The King’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he paused before he spoke again, his voice quieter and slower, “Eat, and drink, as it pleases you. And be seated, if you wish it.”  
  
Steve numbly went closer to the table, taking a plate and putting bread, cheese, and a small piece of meat-  
  
“There’s plenty,” Lord Rhodes said quietly, without looking up from his repast, “And he means it. Eat, you look famished.”  
  
Well, that was just embarrassing- however true it might be.  “I was too nervous to eat this morning,” he admitted quietly.  
  
“First time at something like this?”  
  
Steve nodded, “A Cavalry charge is easier.”  
  
“Don’t I know it,” Rhodes smiled at him.  
  
“I threw up the first time I had to go to court,” The King said, “As an adult, that is. But then,” he nibbled at a slice of some yellow fruit Steve had never seen, “I had drunk rather a lot-“  
  
“A skin of wine on your own,” Rhodes snorted.   
  
“Well, I had heard it was liquid courage-“  
  
Steve smiled a little at the thought of the King, nervous before his own court, “What age were you, sire?”  
  
“In private, please call me Tony, and I’m not sure, Rhodey, how old-“  
  
“Thirteen.”  
  
Gods balls, but that was somewhat less amusing.

  
The King- Tony? Smiled at him and Steve turned his attention to the food.  He had at least stood service to enough balls as a young boy that he knew well enough how to eat without seeming an utter boor.  
  
He’d never tasted such food in his life- each bite better than the last, flavors and textures of things he’d seen but never tried.  Best to remember the adage of moderation, though, and he set aside the plate and knife tidily, as he’d not seen a trolley for whomever served the food to clear.  “Are you sure you’ve had enough?” Tony asked, “That was not so much as I would think a man of your build could eat.”  
  
“Thank you, Si- Tony. Thank you, but that was plenty, and it was very good. You’re too kind.”  
  
“It’s only food,” The King shrugged, and Steve reminded himself that he could not tell the King there was no such thing, not without being seen as behaving ill, and the reward for that was one he chose not to contemplate, even setting aside whatever the King thought the argument was worth.    
  
“As you say,” he said, a breath too late for manners, as his mother would have told him.   
  
“Ah,” Tony smiled, “I’ve angered you.”  
  
...shit.   
  
“Don’t be frightened- I rather prefer you angry. It’s magnificent, though the expression was brief enough- wasn’t it, Rhodey?”  
  
“Tony,” Lord Rhodes sighed in Latin, “Leave the poor boy alone.”  
  
“I think,” Tony sniffed, in the same tongue, “That he was likely left too much alone, which brought him to me, and I shall keep him.” He smiled over the rim of his goblet, “Serve That Bastard right, sending him here-“  
  
“Beg your pardon,” Steve said, a little alarmed, “I know I shouldn’t, seeing what I am, but I do understand you.”

 

The King and Lord Rhodes both looked at him sharply, and Rhodes laughed after a moment, “Well, Tony, you know how to pick them.”  
  
“How?” Tony snapped, “And do you speak it as well?”  
  
Well, this was a fine how-d’ye-do.   
“Not nearly as well as I understand it,” Steve replied, “And, I learned it, sitting... sitting outside the school.  I was paid to wipe the boards, and fetch water, and-“ He refused to be ashamed- his mother had told him to learn all he could, everywhere he went, and it kept him from being bored. She said learning could never go wrong, even if he wasn’t taught his letters properly, he could listen. “Listening’s free, it’s the seat that costs.”  
  
The King shook his head ruefully, “So, any other little tricks, Steven, son of Roger? I would know more of you, and how you came to be wed to Sosa.  At every turn, you contradict what I expect of you.”  
  
“My apologies, Tony.”

 

The King only smiled, and settled back in his chair, waiting. Steve shifted restlessly, looking down, “Surely His Majesty has more important-“  
  
“Steven,” Tony said, “Importance is entirely determined by the one asking the question.  
Something of little import to me- such as the food spread out for our supper- may be vital to another, might it not?  You are something new, and fresh. I would know more.”  
  
A curiosity then, nothing more. Well, he could oblige, and be on his way back to Brooklyn Town. “I was born after my father’s death,” he said, making his voice dry and dull as a Priest’s- for why should his life be sport for the Lords? Even the King? “And my mother worked to keep us together. I went out to my first place at seven years old at board wage, to the Castle. I was small, and often ill,” he shrugged one shoulder, refusing to meet their eyes, “And soon lost that place. I took other work as it came, to help my mother, and the Town Healer took pity on me in my fifteenth year, mixing some draught with old magic, the kind the King’s father is said to have practiced. I was taken to my bed for a month, sick to death, and upon my recovery, have not been ill again.”  
  
“Marvelous,” The Ki- Tony murmured, “A true alchemist.”  
  
“I suppose,” Steve shrugged, “He was killed by a rival, and his shop destroyed while I was abed.  My mother took ill, and to keep her from penury, I took the Lord’s son’s conscription to the border war, became a soldier, came home at the end of my service, and so wed. As I told you, little of interest to you, my Lords.”  
  
“I think you’ve left much untold, my friend,” Tony said wryly, “But very well, keep your secrets- I will earn them soon enough, as you keep to my side.”  
  
...what?   
  


“Yes,” Tony’s smile was sharp, “You shall stay here, in my Court. You were appointed as a member of my bath chamber, were you not? The position rather requires you to be here, at hand.”  
  
“I thought you wanted me to serve as chamber-maid for the evening, but then-“ Steve waved a hand weakly at the table, at the two Lords who were speaking to him as equals, “And then I would be on my way.”  
  
“Certainly not,” Tony said, “If that prating prick calling himself an alchemist wants you, he can come to you.”  
  
Oh, no. No, no. “Majesty, please,” he said, “I must not stay-”  
  
“You would dare tell your King what must happen?”   
  
Remember, Stevie, Bucky’s voice echoed, no matter how nice they might seem, they’re not like us.   
  
“No, my lord,” Steve replied, keeping his voice level and calm.  What he would give to bloody that bastard’s nose, though, keeping Steve like a goddamned kitten he’d found in the rain barrel-  
  
“Good. I will have a servant take you to your room, and world will be sent to your husband. I’m certain he will miss you.” The King stood, as did Rhodes, “Rhodey, a word before you retire?” Rhodes shot Steve a small smile and followed the King, and a servant stepped forward from the doorway- and _that_ would bother the shit out of Steve, a small alcove off the dining room where a person could stand, unseen- and beckoned Steve to follow him.   
  
What choice did he have? Pray Gods Sosa wasn’t too angry.   
  
As if there was a chance in hell of that!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re enjoying the story! Comments and kudos are my life blood!


	3. Whirlwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes up and is not alone- and yet, is lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the dust, I’m renovating? I’ve made some changes to the overall work- namely, removing Schmidt as the husband-character, and replacing him with an OC. I felt Red Skull would overshadow the story, and freak people out.

Steve woke the next morning to the rattle of the door opening and a trio of servants coming in- had he not been a light sleeper, it was likely he would have missed them entirely, but as it was- “Please don’t trouble yourselves,” he begged as the young woman took his doublet and hose from where he’d laid them the night before, and the man refreshed the fire- the room was plenty warm enough! He could not even see his breath!- and the second young woman laid out a spread of food on a folding tray.   


It smelled so good his knees felt weak, like a bakeshop at a holidays, meat pies set to cool on the sill and tempt passerby.  He’d never tasted one.

  
“We are sorry to have woken you, my lord,” the man said, “If you’d like to sleep more, the food is in chafing dishes, and-“   
  
“No, no, I will be up, I just-“   
  
“Nelson will be along shortly with a can of water and razor,” The man continued, and Steve groaned-   
  
“My  _ clothes- _ “   
  
“Nelson also has your clothing, sir,” the woman smiled.   
  
“I didn’t bring any other-“   
  
“Ah, of course. The King commanded more be made up for you, sir, as your stay was so unexpected,” the man smiled pleasantly. “I am Jarvis, head servant and butler. Should you need anything during your stay, you have only to let me know.” And he dipped a bow, as if Steve weren’t naked in his altogether, the blanket clutched to his chest to cover himself from the smiling young women.

After the ladies left the room, Nelson brought in the water- steam curling from the surface- and Jarvis made Steve sit down in only his small clothes and shaved him. Well, he didn’t make him, precisely, Steve thought, but his eyebrows made Steve want to do what he was told.   
  
There was the meat pies he’d smelled, and ham, and eggs, and potatoes with onion, buttered toast, fruit, jam, and flaky sweet cheese pastries, along with tea and coffee- real coffee, not roasted chicory root mashed and boiled.  Steve had never seen such a spread for a breakfast and he ate heartily when he was left blessedly alone. The pie tasted as good as it smelled, and he felt a stab of longing for someone to share the pleasure of it with.

Selfish, Steve, he chided himself as he reluctantly left the food to dress.

  
The meal was a surprise. The clothes were a shock.  He washed after breakfast, and was pulling at the doublet to lace it- it laced in the back, what fresh hell- when there was a rap at the door and he grunted, “Enter,” expecting the servant troupe to return and bustle everything back to the way it should be- him into the clothes Sosa gave him, and the food to whatever Lord it should have gone to, and the feather ticking back to the linen closet-   
  
“Oh, good, you’re up,” Tony said, and Steve froze in place.  That tactic worked well for rabbits, he thought somewhat hysterically. “How do you find- what are you doing?”   
  
“They took my clothes,” Steve muttered, blushing scarlet as he caught sight of the King in the mirror, “And so I am dressing in what they left.”   
  
“Where is your servant?”   
  
“What need have I of one?”

“Gods help me,” The King muttered, crossing to him and batting his fingers away from the lacings, “It’s been some years since I served as a squire, but how complex can it be?” He didn’t seem to be speaking to Steve, and his fingers nimbly corrected the laces, pulled the fabric straight, and secured the ties. 

  
“Sire-“   
  
“Tony,” The King corrected with a grin, and Steve nodded, continuing,   
  
“I would have gotten it.”   
  
“Uh-huh,” Tony said, “And looked ready to be sent to the madhouse, with the way you were lacing. I’ll have one of the pages assigned you tomorrow, while you look about you for a servant.”   
  
How to explain that he couldn’t have a servant, was little more than one himself? Actually, he considered, he was a servant, only with extra duties as assigned.    
  
Well, the King didn’t need to know, and he would tire of Steve soon enough. So, it was hardly a true lie to nod, “All right.”   
  
“There,” The King nodded, “Pretty as a pink. Much better than yesterday.”   
  
“What was wrong with what I was wearing?” Steve asked. He’d thought his clothes fine enough!    
  
“Nothing, truly, though the color did you few favors,” The King’s face smiled as he spoke. “You looked tired. Sleeping in Inns does that to one!”   
  
“Oh,” Steve spoke quickly, without thinking, “We did not stay at an inn last night. The carriage was comfortable enough, when we stopped for the night.”   
  
“Ah,” The King nodded, “Well, less chance of vermin, at least? And no need to share one’s bed, either, though to be fair, I have never minded that.”   
  
Steve nodded, fervently hoping the King thought him hypochondriacal about cleanliness rather than possessed of no money but the last of his soldier’s stipend. “I slept often enough with my unit,” he agreed, “I do not mind sharing a bed with a mate- more warmth and  security.”   
  
“And comfort,” The King said slyly.

“Closeness to one’s friends does bring comfort, especially when there’s little enough to be had,” Steve said, frowning a little at the insinuations of carnal delights being shared rather than what he’d experienced - simple closeness and comforting warmth.  There were those who took the opportunity offered, of course, but Steve had never been one of them.

He so wished now that he had. Perhaps then-

“Come, you are well-arrayed. Let us find you a horse!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you’re enjoying this fic! Thank you to everyone on Put On the Suit discord server- and especially riseupwiseupeyesup for your encouragement and sanity checking! I couldn’t do it without you.
> 
> Please, consider leaving comments/kudos if you enjoyed!


	4. Tickly Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds out a little more about Steve- and Steve, well, he is just trying to work this out.

Tony sprawled regally across his bed, still a little breathless from his thorough enjoyment of imagining Steve astride  _ him _ as well as he sat that horse.  His  _ thighs… _ he smiled at nothing, and wiped his hand clean on a handkerchief, correcting his laces and returning himself to his bed.  Jarvis would be stopping in shortly to discuss the usual matters of schedule and such, and also some rather more interesting points- namely, Steve, especially given Tony’s experiences with him today.

 

First, he had thought Steve would have need of a placid, settled mare, perhaps a little past her sprightliest age- but Steve had smiled a little, looking at where the King’s own horse - Audi- and his brother, Jag- were already penned up to be saddled and ridden, “She’s a lovely horse,” he said, “But I would slow you down, if it’s a pleasure ride you’re after.  I can ride anything you have.”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Anything, eh? You may regret that.”

 

“Maybe,” Steve grinned, “But I wager a ha-penny I can hold my seat on any of your horses.”

 

“Well, then,” Tony said, a little discomfited at his insistence - the man was  _ common-born _ , and these, these were thoroughbreds, with longer lines than the Stark family itself! - “I will have them saddle Nomad for you.” 

 

The bastard rode his trouble-horse as easily as if Nomad were a hobby-horse, once they had, as Steve said, beaming like a page with his first pony, ‘gotten to know one another.’

 

“Don’t sulk, Tony, it’s unbecoming to your Majesty,” Rhodey teased him, eyes twinkling as Steve brought Nomad back beside them after letting him have his head to ‘get the itches out of his feet’.   _ Hooves haven’t much feeling, _ Tony had said grouchily,  _ but by all means, go ahead. _

 

_ The horse doesn’t know that _ , Steve replied,  _ And by your leave. _

 

“I’ll have you know, I am certainly not sulking,” Tony said. Steve bit his lip to hide his mirth, and oh-ho, that was a lovely expression… “But you do ride better than I might have thought. Did you also work as a stable-boy? Or - you said you were small- a jockey?”

 

“I wish I’d thought to try that,” Steve said, “Jockeying, that is. There’s money to be made in the gentleman’s sport!”

 

“And your death to be had,” Rhodey said seriously, “But you said yesterday, you’d rather face a Cavalry charge - were you in our Cavalry?”

 

“The conscription I took was to the Cavalry, yes,” Steve said, “And though at first I was a poor sad sack of a recruit, I learned quickly enough.”

 

Rhodes hummed, eying him, and Tony knew that face well. That was Rhodey’s thinking-face, his this-maths-problem-does-not-balance face.  

 

Tony generally liked it when that face corrected itself. “What unit were you in?”

 

“I was part of the 107th, though I began in-”

 

“In the Reserve, yes, I  _ know _ who you are- Captain Rogers?”

 

Steve flushed, looking uncomfortable, “Just Steve, now. I was never  _ really _ promoted, either, they just called me - I am Steven Sosa, I suppose-”

 

“ _ Just _ \- good god, Tony, I should have known - this devil, he turned the tide of Stane’s war!  We’d thought you dead!”

 

“Nope, just in the Tower,” Tony said with forced levity, his hand pressing at his chest - sometimes, he thought he could still feel-

 

“He rode through the siege,” Rhodey said, “Gods, that charge - you cemented the victory for Stark’s forces.  We had not thought Sosa would ride to our aid. We’d intercepted orders, remember, Tony, we told you, in the reports?”  his face was alight, and Tony nodded, though he had  _ no _ recollection, “That told his Cavalry to hold position, to not- did the orders change? I never received a straight answer from Sosa at the inquest.”  That, Tony recalled with perfect clarity. Sosa had sat back, smirking at the panel of Lords, and said that the actions of his forces should speak to his loyalties.

 

Perhaps it was more Steve’s loyalties than his own.

 

“Well,” Steve said, “Our mission was to preserve the Kingdom. That is what we did.”

 

“Which he did by riding his men straight through the line, disguised as a caravan, and then turned about and attack from the rear,” Rhodey said, “And - is it true, that you had first gone to collect the 107th from where they were held, in the South? Against orders, I believe.”

 

“Well, yes,” Steve said, “Thankfully Knight-Commander Phillips elected to waive the penalties.”

 

“Why did you go? You had to know you’d little enough chance to save them, and a death by lash awaiting you were you to return unsuccessful.”  Tony blinked at Rhodey’s question- that was still a punishment on the books? Gods above, Howard, Obadiah, what manner of men  _ were  _ you? 

 

“My friend was in the 107th,” Steve said simply, “I could not let him die alone, so far from home.” 

 

How was he even  _ real _ ? 

 

“So, a war hero as well as a handsome face,” Tony forced a smile, and Steve’s face tightened, “No wonder his Lordship courted you.  How  _ did _ he court you? I can’t imagine Lord Sosa being a romantic. He’s too…”

 

“Don’t speak ill of his husband,” Rhodey scolded, “It invites ill will and bad luck.”

 

“Beg your pardon,” Tony said, “But how did that come about?  Some fine swords? A new mount?”

 

Steve did not answer for a long moment, his face grave and somehow grieved as he looked ahead between Nomad’s ears, hand moving effortlessly to correct the buck the horse prepared to give, “His kindness was all I sought,” he replied finally.

 

Rhodey blinked, and looked at Tony sharply.

 

Kindness?

 

From  _ Lord Charles Sosa _ ?

 

Tony didn’t want to think about that, really, so he spurred his horse to a canter, both soldiers falling in behind him easily.  It was a pleasant day for a ride, and the trip to the dam was uneventful. Tony found the work there to be adequate, and enjoyed explaining the mill mechanisms to Steve- Rhodey occasionally interjecting his own thoughts on the matter, brilliant as always.  Tony found Steve to be pleasingly quick to understand, and intelligent in questioning- a rare combination, in his experience.

 

Really, he couldn’t have been luckier, he thought as he awaited Jarvis once they’d gotten back to the castle in the early evening.  

 

Unless perhaps  _ he _ had been the one whose kindness was sought.  

 

“Sir wished to see me?”

 

“Yes, Jarvis,” Tony smiled at the man who had raised him- and never betrayed his trust.  He had perhaps not appreciated him appropriately in his teen years, but as he’d matured, had grown fonder and fonder of the man- and was reasonably confident the feeling was mutual.

 

After all, it had been Jarvis who ensured he survived the Tower.

 

And Jarvis who opened the Gate to Rhodey’s forces-

 

And Jarvis who wiped his tears as Tony knelt beside the traitor’s body, and Tony could still remember how it felt to be pulled close to his chest, to rest his head against Jarvis’ shoulder, and be allowed to weep.

 

But none of that now, now- he had a new lease on life, and a kingdom to run, and a new cabinet member to examine.

 

“Tell me, what terrible things did Steven pack in his trunks? Lacy underthings, please tell me he has them-“

 

“I will elect to not have heard you say that,” Jarvis said wryly, “And I am sure His Majesty knows the young lord brought no trunks.”

 

“He did not intend to visit long.”

 

“He has no means to,” Jarvis said, “Mister Hogan spoke to the carriage driver belowstairs, and apparently, the Lord Sosa is treating the young man no better than a common trollop, despite him being wedded properly.”

 

“Really,” Tony said flatly, “What evidence did he have of this? And it’s so well known the servants speak openly?”

 

“Indeed. I myself took note this morning as he offered a customary vial, that his purse was very light. Not more than a meal at a low tavern, I wager. He had no nightclothes of any kind with him, and seemed surprised by breakfast.  I do not like it one bit, sir.”

 

And wasn’t  _ that _ an image Tony would relish. “I do not care for it either, but I can hardly take another man to task over his spouse’s allowance! He’s within his rights- as I am within my rights to keep Steven here, and ensure his stipend as my courtier is adequate to his needs.”  In fact, keeping him at court was a  _ good _ thing. It was best for Steve. 

 

“I believe he is distressed to not be going home, sir.”

 

“Distressed? To be kept from his ‘husband’?” Tony waved a hand angrily, “Forgive me for not throwing him back upon that man’s  _ kindness!”  _ His temper was well and truly lit, as he paced before the fire. It was one thing to wed a commoner,  _ despite  _ their birth, and quite another to wed them and proceed to abuse them  _ because  _ of their birth.  “Sosa should have contented himself with a courtesan,” he growled, “And left Steve well alone.”

 

“As you say,” Jarvis dipped a half-bow, “I shall assign Lord Steven a squire to act as his bodyservant, and ensure his access to all the amenities of the castle, shall I?”

 

“Yes, thank you, Jarvis.  I need-“ He snapped his fingers together, rocking on his heels, “I will be in my workroom. Do not disturb me for anything that is less than urgent.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

He needed to create, let this- this- let his temper and his want fold themselves into iron and steel and designs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story! Please let me know in the comments below, or leave kudos!


	5. Dream and Waking Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finds himself with little to do, so he finds some work for himself.
> 
> Predictably, this ends in a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I hope you enjoy the chapter! Thanks to all who have commented and kudosed! Means the world to me.
> 
> I should be done writing this fic before Christmas, and hope to have the editing and posting done by New Year’s.
> 
> Please forgive typos, this was entirely written and edited on my phone.

Steve woke slowly, curling close on himself as wakefulness asserted itself.  He didn’t quite want to wake. For all it had begun as a nightmare, the dream had been so pleasant towards the end.

The bed was comfortable, too, and he must have rolled just right in the night, because he was completely covered by the blankets. He chased the dream.

He could hear Bucky, lighting the fire.

Good of him, to already be up, but Bucky was used to huntsman’s and smithy’s hours.

Steve had met the king.  And he was kind, and so handsome, with such clever hands- of course in his dream, he would, Steve’s desires ran less between the legs and more in the skills a person possessed, and in his dream the King was also an inventor, a real one, and-

“My lord?”

He pulled the blankets from his head, looking wildly at the young man who had obviously rekindled the fire- he still held a tinder box in his hand.

The dream was real, he thought, the king- he was eager and pleased and-

And so was the nightmare.  

His belly clenched tight.

He climbed from the comfortable bed, the nightshirt Mister Jarvis had left him covering him to mid-thigh, and began to pull on his hose. The young man- boy, for no stubble darkened his cheek- knelt to assist him. Steve fought not to flinch away- he was a child, after all, but hands on his skin-

(Though the King had touched him yesterday, and he had not shied away.)

“Good morning, sir, I’m Parker, I’m one of the King’s squires,” The boy said, words tumbling out like puppies from a basket, “I’m to assist you, sir. Um. Do you need help?”

“No,” Steve said, “Not to dress- but can you tell me when I will be sent home?” The King had been less than forthcoming on that topic, jand also on what he wanted Steve to actually do-  Steve could not like it.

“Um, so, no, you’re going to stay,” Parker said, “I mean, you’re a gentleman of the Bathing Chamber which means you’re, well, a Lord of the Cabinet.”

Steve looked at him blankly, “But he hasn’t asked me to bathe him.”

“I should hope not!” Parker said indignantly, “The King isn’t like that, he never would have, no matter what they tell you he was like before the unrest.  Nobody got sent up there who didn’t want to go. He wouldn’t. He won’t.”

While the idea of the King wanting him as a physical diversion had occurred to him, it hadn’t hit him quite so until the boy told him there was no possibility he’d be sent for, no waking to a man climbing atop him, and he could not help but relax a little.

“It’ll warm up, sir, quickly, I’m sorry, I was running behind, but you see, there was a demonstration of alchemy by Lord Banner, and, well, when he does that, everyone wants to see, so, I-“

“The room is warm,” Steve stopped the flood of chatter, wrestling his tunic straight as his temper flared.  How dared the King keep him? He was not a pet! He was needed at home! “Where can I find the King at this hour?”

“He has given orders that none are to disrupt him,” Parker said apologetically, “But that leaves you at your leisure, sir, so-“

“I’ve no desire for leisure,” Steve snapped, and the squire recoiled. Instantly, Steve regretted his damned temper- the boy did not merit it, and the King was not to hand. “I am sorry. I only want… well, I want to go home.” He could see the boy bite his tongue.  “Can you help me find a messenger?”

*

“Sir, please,” Peter begged, “I don’t need help. Really! You’ve got to have something better to do than- than help me clean armor, sir.”

Steve grinned at him, “Should you be tellin’ a Lord he’s got better things to do than what he wants to?” The Brooklyn Town accent was irrepressible, but just at this moment, he didn’t care, because the Squire was from Queens Town, his given name was Peter, and he’d helped Steve be treated with respect when the messenger had implied Steve should carry the message himself, since he couldn’t write it down.

Parker had torn into the messenger before Steve could even find his tongue between his teeth, informing him that he was a lazy and good for nothing idiot, and Sir Jarvis (oh hell, he was a sir and had seen Steve in nothing but drawers) would hear of it!

Suddenly, the man could not be more accommodating.

Message sent, and now… Gods, let it be enough, let him believe Steve had no choice in this.  

Steve looked at the Squire, “Is there anything I should do?”

The list that poured out of him was dizzying. He might like a snack. Or to promenade. Or a steam bath. Or to visit temple. Or the other temple, nobody would mind. Or a ride. Or to play at cards.

Or-

“What are your duties?”

“Me? Oh, just Squire tasks. I’m headed to the armory next, I have enough cleaning to last until I’m twenty, and then-“

“Perfect. I’ll go with you.”

And that led to a very panicked Squire flitting around him as Steve loaded chain mail into a barrel with a stone’s worth of sand, sealed it, and set to work rolling it the length of the armory.

“I wouldn’t know how to promenade if you told me I’d be thrown from the ramparts if I failed,” Steve interrupted the boy as he chattered about His Lordship not needing to Trouble Himself. “This,” he waved a hand at the armory, resting his other palm against the rough wood of the barrel, feeling useful again, “I know how to do. Besides, if I help, you’ll be done sooner, and can rest.”

“I get plenty of rest-“

“I have never met a page, Squire, or decent Knight who didn’t want a little more rest,” Steve said, setting the barrel in motion again, “Get to work, Parker! Day’s a-wasting!”

The boy groaned, but set to the plate armor with a cloth. Soon enough he was chatting again, and Steve listened avidly, desperate to learn about this life he’d come into- even if it wasn’t truly his, he reminded himself, for he felt rather a Jay in borrowed plumes.  After the armor-cleaning, he assisted Parker in tidying his quarters- and showed him the proper way to refresh a cotton-tick mattress, gods defend these lord’s children who came straight from a nursery to serving as a page.  

Parker took him along to the dining hall as well, and Steve made the acquaintance of several more Squires and pages- the eldest squires, those awaiting only selection by a Knight-Master, were nearly of an age with him.  After dinner- which was a good stew, with fresh bread, sharp cheese, and apples served alongside small-beer- he obtained Parker’s tentative permission to join the squires in practice bouts. The Training-Master, Coulson, looked him askance for a few moments, but after Parker made introductions, the man grinned sharply, “Permit you? Sir, the boys will benefit from your presence any time you wish to join us.  I was there the day you struck down the King’s Own squadron, the bloody traitors,” he spat to the side, and Steve flushed.

“I only did my duty.”

“Uh-huh. Boys, gather. Today, you will learn melee from one gifted in the art. Put aside your swords, and fetch shields.”

Well, at least he could teach these little ones to protect themselves somewhat, he thought at the end of the hour.  Perhaps he could come again to the next lesson.

It felt good, to have worked, to have been busy. Almost, he forgot that he was trapped, but every time a lordling called him ‘sir’ or ‘my Lord’ it came rushing back to him.

Well, it could not be helped.

Parker bid him farewell in the late afternoon as he was required to attend lessons on decorum- and Steve might desperately need those lessons, but he had some pride. Well, more than some.

He set out to learn the lay of the land within the Keep. Guards would be posted anywhere he should not be, he figured, and no one had said he couldn’t, or told him to keep to quarters (though that was likely implied by Parker’s list from that morning- that Lords not diverting themselves about the castle kept to their rooms or to the court itself. If Tony was not at court, Steve was not stupid enough to try to go. Just because he could endure humiliation did not mean he sought to bring it upon himself!), so he took up wandering.

He really should have remembered his mother’s adage, that idle hands were the Devil’s workplace.  No one was as idle as a noble away from his own lands.

“My Lords, please,” he heard a soft plea from around the corner, “I’m offering no trouble, I only wish to do my work-“

“Darling, this could be your work,” a man replied to the woman’s voice, “Come, an easy tumble apiece and we’ll give you a shilling and let you go. That isn’t so bad, is it?”

Isn’t so bad, is it?

“It’s my place if I’m caught with my betters, oh please- I’ve a little one to feed, sirs, please let me go-“

Steve came ‘round the corner and took stock- two men, nobles by their dress, had backed a young woman into a corner, her arms full of a basket of linens and her hair pulled loose from its pinnings.  How dared they? “Leave her be,” he snarled.  The men startled, and looked at him.

“Does your master know you’re wearing his castoffs?” The first man sneered, “Run along, boy, and we won’t tell you’re playing at being better than you are.”

The girl looked at him, terrified, seeing not a rescuer but another who would cause her harm, and Steve-

Well, Steve understood that. “Unhand her,” he demanded, “Or else.”

“Else what?” They turned from the girl, and she fled down the corridor, basket thrown aside, and both men let their hands rest on their swords. “You wouldn’t dare test us, knave!”

Steve had no sword, but he had never needed to carry one.  He caught the first man about the neck with one hand before the blade could clear the scabbard, and the other hand went to the sturdy belt buckle. He swung him off his feet, dashing his head against the wall.  The man crumpled, and Steve caught the wrist of the second man as he dodged a swing of his blade- yanking him forward and driving his knee just above the belt, as he doubtless wore a codpiece. A sharp twist of the wrist, and Steve felt bones grind together beneath his hand.

The man howled, and Steve struck him across the jaw with his right, his left still holding the man’s sword arm. He stumbled to his knees, and Steve bent the arm back behind him- “I cry you mercy,” he blubbered, “I will pay-“

“The women you torment cry you mercy,” Steve hissed, pulling sharply on the man’s arm to force his hand to open- and took the sword- “I know your kind.  You are despicable.” The man spat up at him, vile curses and threats.  Gods above, but he wished his mother had not raised him with morals, it would be so easy to turn his wrist completely, cripple him for life… no.

Steve heard the thunder of guards running up the corridor- he could run, he should, but-

But if he did so, the only one who would suffer was the maid.

Bucky would understand.

“Oh, thank all gods!” The man cried as the guards tackled Steve and he grunted in pain as an armored knee dug into his side, “This man set upon us, take him to the stockade-“

“Lord Rumlow,” a guard said, “We will handle this- let someone take you to a healer, sir-“

“They were attacking a girl,” Steve growled, wriggling under the guard’s weight, “One of the servants.”

“Even if that were so, and it is not, she propositioned us for a few spare coins,” the Lord sneered, bold now even though he was pale with pain,

“You lie!” Steve shouted, “You-“

The lord smiled down at him, crouching down and yanking his face from the floor by his hair, “It would be of no import. You attacked a Lord, you low-born bastard, and it will be the gibbet for you. See if you’re so brave when the crows take your eyes.”

“It’s always so interesting to see what you think of others, Lord Rumlow, and your adorable belief you can play judge and jury, will-he-nill-he,” a new voice interjected, and Steve craned his neck to see past lord Rumlow- oh. Lord Rhodes, “Unhand Lord Steven, lads.”

The guards scrambled back and Steve got to his feet, and Rhodes made the handsign- subtle, to the side, for silence, keep low.  

Rumlow snapped, “He’s a Lord? His speech is that of a turnip puller!”

“Spoken to many of those, have you?” Rhodes smirked, “Now, what sort of gentleman’s disagreement have we here, fellows? Rumlow, did he say you weren’t the fairest in the land?” Rhodes helped the second man to his feet- he was swaying somewhat, and blinking at the lights, but Steve saw no sign of lasting harm.

“Ah- no. We had a- misunderstanding. With a lass.”

“Oh, one of those, I see,” Rhodes nodded sagely, rubbing his chin, “And Lord Steven came upon it, and felt it his chivalrous duty-“

“He was over-strong about it-“

“Well,” Rhodes shrugged, “Perhaps the misunderstanding was a great one, and at times, Brock, you do not listen. Come, offer a hand and make up. I’m sure we will find a way for you to make up the misunderstanding to the girl as well.”

Steve looked at Rhodes as Rumlow put out his uninjured hand- and Rhodes signed forward.

Did he trust Rhodes? He found he did, and he shook the man’s hand, his mouth closed tight against bitter railing.  “Lads, see the Lords make it to the healer, and take a full report. See Lord Jarvis about the girl and reparations- and ensure it’s paid. In full. We will have, say, fifty crowns? For our troubles.”

“Fifty?”

“Said I fifty? Seventy five.”

“...of course, Lord Rhodes.”

The group moved off, and Rhodes turned to him, “It’s good to know that Tony has a type, I suppose.  You did the right thing, though the wrong way. Next time, call the guard- or challenge him to a duel. If you start a fistfight like that again, it’s very likely you’ll be taken up for assault.”

Rhodes wasn’t wrong. Steve sighed, nodding wearily, “Thank you for your assistance, Lord Rhodes.”

“Call me Rhodey,” The man said, grinning, “And let me buy you a tankard of ale. Beating morons works up a mighty thirst in me, does it you?”

“Yes,” Steve agreed, smiling a little, “Thank you. Truly.”

“You’re welcome, Lord Steven.”

“Steve.”

“Steve, then. Come, I would hear about your sport with the squires earlier today!”


	6. A Man-Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony daydreams, and he and Steve get to know each other better.

Three days had passed before Tony left his workroom- and a half-day past that, he slept, and ate, and slept again, worn out with the work of creating, but he’d done it. The gearwork engine could be adapted to any water reservoir or well, and pump the water to where it was wanted. He would see about having them made for each town center- it wouldn’t be so much more tax, really-

He luxuriated in his hot bath, smiling at the thought of telling Steve- he’d taken to calling him so in his head- about the water pump. “Jarvis?” He said, “What has my newest Lord been about, while I’ve been distracted? Don’t tell me- he’s been using the steam rooms,” Tony said dreamily, “And the gymnasium, and has enjoyed the finest confections, and-“

“He daily follows Squire Parker about his duties and helps the boy,” Jarvis said wryly, “He has taken to teaching the smaller squires hand to hand lessons. He beat the bloody hell out of Lords Rollins and Rumlow when they offered violence to one of the staff- dealt with already, Anthony, do not fret. The girl was not harmed, thanks to Lord Steven- and he has sent a daily message back to Brooklyn Town, all the same.”

“He didn’t seal the messages?” Tony sat up with a frown.

“He cannot write,” Jarvis said wryly, “All have been delivered by mouth.”

“What does he say? ‘Darling I love the castle, I am never returning? Send my horse and effects, I cannot leave the King?’” He grinned at the thought.

“Hardly,” Jarvis said wryly, “He sends ‘I am delayed, I will return when I am able. I am doing my duty by you as well as the King.’”

Tony frowned, “That’s… cryptic.”

“Indeed.”

“And hardly a message a joyous newlywed would send.”

 

“Hardly.”

 

“I like it not, Jarvis.”

 

“He is a kind, good young man. His choice in husband makes me uneasy,” Jarvis replied, “But, it was a choice he made.  We would do best to respect it.”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow at the old servant-cum-Lord of House, “Jarvis, are you trying to tell me something?”

 

“I know you, Tony, and have for many years.  You should be mindful of his position- and yours.”

 

“As if,” Tony murmured, rising from the bath which seemed no longer a refuge, “I could ever forget.”  Jarvis smiled at him with no happiness, wrapping a towel about him before leaving Tony in his room to complete his toilet.

 

He dressed in day to day clothes, and chose his lightest circlet and emblem, and went in search of Steve.

 

He stopped briefly by the Asgardian embassy- Thor’s sharp grin told Tony that he’d heard of what happened, and also, that he was happy to assist Tony in the small matter of Lords who didn’t know their place.

 

That business complete, he continued on to the overlook of the training grounds.  Steve and Rhodey cursed each other good naturedly, and Tony stood to watch, for now unseen.  Steve was stripped to the waist, bearing only a round wooden shield as three of Tony’s personal guard set upon him with padded swords, the padding soaked in paint to show where a blow landed.  

 

The shield dripped with the colors of the rainbow, but Steve was only splattered about with the paint, his hair dark with sweat.  

 

“Your point is made!” Rhodey said, “Gods above, stop embarrassing me,” he groaned as Steve knocked down a guard, who crawled to the side, smears of paint all along his chest, “A shield can make a worthy weapon. I yield.”

 

Steve grinned as the last guard stood down, and he glanced up, his eyes coming immediately to rest on Tony.  The smile remained, though dimmer, as he bowed the knee and lowered his proud head (the sonnet Tony wished to write over the curve of his neck-), “Majesty,” he greeted, and Tony waved for all to rise, though had they been alone, he might have waited a moment- just to look.

 

“I see you’ve been keeping busy,” Tony said, and Rhodey shook his head,

 

“Tony, we’ve got to let him train the men regularly- he’s improved the Squires as well!”

 

“Thank you for allowing Squire Parker to assist me and help me navigate the Castle,” Steve said, “He’s a good lad.”

 

“Peter? He is,” Tony agreed, “And certainly, that would be a benefit to all, don’t you think, Steve?”

 

“I-“ Steve hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek as the guards traipsed out, dismissed by a wave of Rhodes’ hand.

 

“I actually came to find you both for a purpose,” Tony said, “We can discuss tactics over a meal. You both must be hungry, and I know I certainly am.”

 

“Let us go dress,” Rhodey said, “And wash. And then we will attend.  Come along, Steve.”

 

Tony did his best not to let his gaze wander as the soldiers left, but the taper of Steve’s waist to his arse was a masterpiece of artwork to his eye.  He felt a sickening blaze of jealousy at the idea of Sosa’s hands encircling Steve’s hips, holding him-

 

He took a breath, let it out, and reminded himself he was the King, a man full-grown, and that Steven had shown no interest in anything but to go home.  Well, they would talk tonight, Tony would keep his eyes upon his face, and make Steve understand that it was a better place for him, here.

 

*

 

Seeing Steve’s pleasure at the meal made something ache in Tony’s belly. The food was not so grand as a feast, but even so, Steve’s eyes were large and his excitement- doubtless he believed it well concealed, but Rhodey and Tony shared a small smile as Steve earnestly asked the serving girl to tell the cook what excellent work he had done on the venison pasty.

 

He needed to repeal the damned sumptuary laws Obie had set down while Tony wasn't watching, and ease the hunting on public lands permits- he could not like the knowledge that his people went hungry when there was no need.  The kingdom had coin enough and plenty of good harvests- he scribbled the note on his forearm, beside a reminder to see how the millwork might be turned from grain to cloth as well.

 

“What-“ Steve cleared his throat and looked abashed, and Tony smiled at him.

 

“I would that you were at your ease with me, in private,” he reminded Steve, “As I call you Steve, and you call me Tony, remember that we can be friends first, and nobles second.”

 

Steve’s smile was shy, but genuine, “Then can I ask what you’re writing?”

 

“A reminder for me to talk to the bedamned court about consumption laws,” Tony said, wishing he’d been writing something a touch more interesting or useful.

 

“Why?” Steve frowned, back straightening and stiffening.

 

“I don’t care what people eat or wear, so long as they can afford it,” Tony shrugged, “Why should I have a law that says no one ranked below a duchy can eat salmon? The nobles aren’t even the ones catching the fish-“

 

“You want to repeal them?” Steve gasped, “To-“

 

“I mean, we still need to ensure forests aren’t overhunted somehow, but-“

 

“Over hunted?” Steve laughed, “Sire, there are so many damned deer no one in Brooklyn Town can grow fruit.  Thankfully the blasted things don’t eat potatoes, but-“

 

“They’re in the town?!”

 

“Of course,” Steve shrugged, “They’ve benefited from the good crops we’ve had the last few seasons, and Sos- my lord husband, while fond of a good haunch of venison,” he screwed up his face, “Even with his appetite, cannot hunt enough to make a dent.”

 

“Does no one poach?” Rhodey asked, intrigued.

 

“Of course they do,” Steve said, “But not many, not often, and the punishments are-“ he looked down, “It is only worth it if you’re starving,” he said quietly, “The risk, that is.”

 

Tony wasn’t hungry anymore.

 

“So that- that is good, that you want to, to repeal that,” Steve said, looking at Tony with more warmth than the King had seen from him- as if seeing Tony for the first time as a person, not his King.  “It would be a help.”

 

Tony smiled at him, “I wish to make my people’s lives easier,” he said, “Perhaps with you in my cabinet, we can-“

 

“The best thing you could do would be forbid man-traps,” Steve blurted, “Forbid the nobles to use the damned things, they-“ he closed his mouth, hard, and Tony blinked at him, mind poring over what he knew of them-

 

He’d designed one at Obie’s request, and had been thrilled at the puzzle it presented, but now-

 

Now he could not see the engineering or the cleverness of the springed hinge, the delicacy of the pressure plate.

 

He could only see the cruelty of it closing on a man’s leg. “Trespassing is a crime,” he managed.

 

“Adults know to avoid them,” Steve said, so quietly tony almost couldn’t hear him, “Children-“

 

Oh, gods. Rhodey looked ill, and Tony-

 

He picked up the bell, summoning the serving girl, “Bring me Jarvis,” he said, and she scampered off.

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, “I did not mean to ruin your meal, it’s only that I- I have always wished I could ask, and when I did mention it to Sos- to my lord husband, he-“ Steve swallowed tightly, “Said the King approved, and who was he to go against your word? I had never thought I could speak-“

 

Tony lifted a hand to silence him as Jarvis came in, and Tony spoke swiftly, “A message is to be sent out,” he said, “An edict. By order of the King, all use of man-traps are to be abolished, immediately. Those found making use of same will be tried for treason.”

 

“The nobility will-“ Rhodey interjected, and Tony rounded on him.

 

“They can fuck themselves!” He cried, “It should have stopped the first time they caught a-“

 

Gods.

 

He couldn’t breathe, “Jarvis,” he choked, “Jarvis, make it so.”

 

“Of course, My king,” The man said gently, and Tony stumbled to his feet and fled.

 

His feet led him to the top of the turret, where in time of war, lookouts could see to the sea and signal the fleet.  In peace, only he and the groundskeepers ever seemed to journey up so high. The wind was biting cold, and he shivered, sitting on the stone with his back pressed to the wall. He looked up to the sky, but his eyes blurred out the stars as he wept bitterly.

 

He was not fit to be King. He was not fit to live!

 

“But you are alive,” Steve said softly, and Tony startled- how long? The stars had moved, and his limbs were cramped, “And you are King.” He sat beside Tony, warmth emanating from him like a campstove, even as he wrapped a thick mantle over Tony’s shoulders, tucking it behind him to keep him from the stone, “And you are a good man, Tony, and a good King. I did not know that, at first,” he said wryly, “I thought you were going to- well. It is of no matter. And even this morning, I did not know that you were anything more than a polite noble. But that- that edict you sent-“

 

“Too late-“

 

“Not for everyone,” Steve interrupted, “Not for a child born yesterday. You know better, now, and so you want to do better. That’s- do you understand that you’re the first I’ve known who wanted our lives to be easier?” He pulled Tony closer to his side, bringing the hood of the mantle over Tony’s head, and tucking a… Was that a baked potato? Into his hands to warm them. It was. Steve had realized Tony was out in the cold, had fetched the mantle and a Gods-damned baked potato from the kitchen, and come to him.

 

“You’re a noble, now,” Tony reminded him, teeth chattering, “You don’t have to worry about it anymore, about the- about being hungry, or- You could have simply forgotten all of- of the bad- left it behind you- not asked me a boon. That-that took courage.”

 

Steve looked at him, and Tony could not see his expression in the dark, but he felt it, felt that something was wrong even as the other man replied, “Yes, I suppose I am a noble now. I don’t have to worry. About that.  But no, I couldn’t have forgotten, Tony. And… you needed to know.”

 

“The gods blessed me by sending you,” Tony told him, “To be honest. To help me serve.”

 

“Tony, that’s not-“ whatever he was going to say was cut off, as Rhodey stepped from the ladder to the floor of the watchwalk.

 

“Inside,” he commanded, “Steve, at least, should know better.”

 

“He brought me a baked potato and a cloak,” Tony laughed, “He does know better, Rhodey.” Steve smiled at him, warm and soft, and Tony wanted to bask in it forever.

 

“Mulled cider, and then to bed with you, Majesty,” Rhodey said seriously, “Tomorrow will be a long day, and I must leave to enforce your edict.”

 

“You wanted to leave anyways,” Tony teased him, “Never at court more than a fortnight!”

 

“Can’t afford it,” Rhodes grinned, “What with all the maidens desperate mamas thrust upon me.”  Jarvis appeared, looking stern, and Tony sighed a little.

 

Yes, he should be abed, ere he caught his death.

 

“Be well, Rhodey,” Tony said softly as Rhodey left him to head to his own house in the lower circle of the city. Steve bowed with Rhodes, and both soldiers left him to head back to his rooms, where doubtless there was a hot drink, a roaring fire, and a warmed bed, and a hot brick wrapped in flannel to rest his feet against.

 

He hoped he could sleep without dreams.


	7. Stipend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve receives his stipend and is at ends on how to spend it. 
> 
> And surely Tony isn’t... flirting.

>  

Steve fled to the room he’d been offered, and shook his head as he entered- the fire was crackling, there was a steaming mug of cider, and fragrant tea set beside it with a few biscuits on a small plate.  The coverlet was turned down, and the linen nightshift - he knew instinctively it was fresh- laid across the bed for him to put on before bed.

 

It was all too wonderful to be true, but it was, and here he was, everything he could ever dream of- and more- and yet, he could not turn the ice out of his belly.

 

To the world, his story read like a fairy tale, a sickly boy is given an alchemist’s draught and grows into a man, becomes a hero, marries a lord, is befriended by a king- and yet.

 

And yet.

 

The truth was close to the tale, yes- the lines of the drawing were all there, the shape of it- but the colors, ah, there the picture changed. The truth of his loveless marriage, of the chokehold they held each other in…

 

He drank the cider slowly, stripped and put on the clean shift (it smelled sweetly of lavender water), and went to bed.  Sleep did not come, but daybreak did. Steve rose, dressed again, and left the room before the servants came to mend the fire and feed him.  He tucked himself into a quiet nook of the library, taking a piece of charcoal and a precious scrap of paper he’d saved from the trash heap when the Squire it belonged to cast it aside- it smelled a little of biscuits, but he’d used worse! He settled into a comfortable position, and let his mind wander as his fingers found their way on the paper. He drew Bucky first, as always, the way he imagined him and knew he could not be, and smiled to see his friend’s face.

 

Then, he drew the King.  

 

“You’ve hit me off better than my portrait master, and on a biscuit wrapper? I should show it to the man as a censure,” Tony spoke behind him, and Steve jumped, startled from his reverie. “Who’s that? It’s certainly not Charles.”

 

He’d never drawn his husband, other than as a rude caricature, but he knew better than to admit that to the king.  Any ill-word he spoke of him would no doubt grow wings and fly back to Brooklyn. “My best friend,” he said softly, smiling, “James Buchanan. He likes to be called Bucky, as that’s what his sister called him- his father was James, as well, so he was given the second name to avoid confusion.”

 

“Mm. He could come here, you know, if you miss him. I can always use more-“ he peered at the drawing, sharp eyes taking in the small details Steve had worked into Bucky’s dress- the vambraces and fingerless gloves, “Use more archers.”

 

Gods, what he would not give… Steve made a soft sound in his throat, “The King is most generous. It’s just something to pass the time,” he said, “The squires have a half-holiday, and I’m at odd ends.”

 

“Well, you could always come and help me prepare for Court session this afternoon,” Tony said wryly, “Arguments are going to be made about the man-traps… and sumptuary laws… I would not mind having a sympathetic face to look at when an old lord is mid-apoplexy.”

 

“If you think it’s a good idea,” Steve said, smiling a little, “I warn you, I’m a little - well, Bucky always told me I should learn when to leave well enough alone.”

 

“I’m sure you can’t be that bad.”

 

“You say so now.” Tony shook his head, smiling down at him wryly, “It’s settled then- I’ll accompany you to court.”

 

“It opens the hour after lunch. Meanwhile, I generally have Jarvis see to it, but as I don’t know who your banker is, I will give you your first week’s pay directly.” He held out a purse, and Steve blinked at it dumbly.

 

“Pay for what?”

 

“Members of my Cabinet receive a stipend on the first of the month,” Tony said, “Which is today. So,” he shook it, and coin jingled, “Here.”

 

A stipend. He was receiving a stipend for- well, he did have the new clothes and his room and board- he trembled at the thought of paying for all the food, gods, he should have been more careful of it! “How do I-“ Steve cut himself off from asking Tony such an ignorant question, “Beg pardon, I will ask Parker.”

 

“Ask him what?” Tony seemed curious.

 

“How do I know which tailor to pay for my new clothes?” Steve flushed, “And- do I give Jarvis the coinage for room and board?”

 

“Good gods,” Tony interjected, “The clothing was a gift, and all cabinet members - and courtiers- have room and board when they wait upon the King. It’s why there’s so many of the damned creatures about. Free food and fire.”

 

...Steve couldn’t imagine anyone needing free food less than a noble! “Thank you?”

 

“Oh, you’ll earn it,” Tony grinned, “In frustration if nothing else. See you in a few hours- try not to spend it all at once!” He winked, and went back to the main castle, no doubt to prepare for court.

 

Steve didn’t envy him that. Curious, he pulled open the purse, and his mouth dropped open.

 

Tony must have given him the wrong purse. This- this must be Tony’s! He scrambled to his feet, leaving his drawing to be blown away in the wind as he ran after the King.

 

“Majesty!” He called, and Tony turned back to him, brows raised. “You’ve given me the wrong purse, Sire,” he said once he was close enough not to shout.

 

“I assure you, I have not,” Tony smiled at him, amused and pleased, “Welcome to funds commensurate with your station, Lord Steven.”

 

“It’s- it’s too much,” Steve said weakly.

 

“Whatever will you do next month?” Tony grinned sharply, “When you receive the same?”

 

Steve’s knuckles ached with how tightly he clutched the purse, “This is- it’s so much, what do you spend it on?”

 

“First, that’s a fraction of my allowance.  I could spend what I’ve given you in a day, with ease.  You’ll find something you like,” Tony said kindly, “Horses, pretty women- or men, wine, travels, luxuries-“

 

Steve shook his head, “I’m a simple man. Five of these coins would suffice me the month.”

 

“Oh, you are darling, Steve. Give it six months and you’ll be applying to raise the rate,” Tony said, but did not seem angry about it, rather… pleased?

 

He couldn’t fathom… “It is truly mine?”

 

“Truly.”

 

“Do I- should I send it to my husband?”

 

“Absolutely fucking not.” Oh. He understood suddenly that Tony was not only Tony, and not only the benevolent eccentric, but he was also the King, and terrible in his majesty and anger.

 

“I won’t, then,” Steve smiled, “Thank you. I’ll just- I’ll go see what to do with this.”

 

“You’ll figure it out, Steve. I have every confidence in your abilities.”

 

“You’re too kind,” Steve said wryly, and Tony laughed brightly,

 

“That’s something I’m not often accused of.  I think you’ll find I’m just kind enough.”

 

*

Steve spoke to Parker and Jarvis, and determined that truly, no, he had no expenses to speak of. He weighed the purse in his hand- thirty gold crowns.Ten, Jarvis said, he needed to spend on additional Court clothing, a riding habit, boots, and (embarrassingly), new underclothes.  That would, Jarvis said, set him up well enough to be neither dandy nor dowd. Two crowns went to paying vials to the castle staff- individual tipping was discouraged, but at the holidays, the vials went to providing comforts and pleasures for the staff. Steve took three for his portion to the temple, as his mother had taught him, and one in the corner of his room to thank the elf- he hid it, because he knew it was a sad countrified tradition- and then…

 

The rest was his to spend as he wished.

 

Gods, he had never known having money could be a burden.  He wandered from the castle proper down into the town, considering as he went how best to spend- or save- or…

 

Oh. _Oh_!

 

*

Steve dressed in Court finery, and went to Tony’s antechamber to see if he was needed before Court began. Tony smiled at him as he held still for Jarvis to fasten his mantle and settle the most ornate crown Steve had yet seen on his head.

 

Suddenly, he felt shy, and awkward, and ashamed. But… “I, well, I saw this, and I thought- it’s foolish, but I thought you might like it.”  He held out the gift he’d brought back from the Town. “And I got some candies, for after Court. My men and I, whenever we got leave, would take turns treating, and I thought you might like-“

 

He was such a damned idiot, and his cheeks flushed in shame, even as the King unwrapped the paper from ‘round the little wooden object Steve had bought him. A tiny gearwork knight sat in his palm, and Tony looked from it to Steve, and back, “No one has ever-“ the King’s eyes glistened, “Thank you. I love it. It’s- it’s perfect, Steve, truly.” He smiled, throat working as he swallowed at nothing.

 

Steve remembered his mother looking just so when he’d brought her may flowers he’d found, and the shame receded, leaving warmth in his belly.

 

“I thought you might like it,” Steve said.

 

“What else have you spent your hard-earned money at?  I found myself wondering often this morning as I prepared to listen to nobles bitch about their servants wearing too fine woolen hose,” Tony asked, mischief in his eyes and Steve liked that expression just as well as when the King looked pleased, “Hmm? Sweets to share and a toy- let me guess, you’ve also gotten a fine horse and carriage, or-“

 

Steve shrugged, “I’ve saved some,” he said, “Jarvis advised some other purchases.”

 

“And yet you do not look as unhappy as you did,” Tony said thoughtfully, setting his foot on a stool for Jarvis to finish lacing his boots, the tiny Knight still held in his hand, his thumb rubbing over its helm, “I would know what’s eased your mind so. You’ve done something, don’t try to tell me otherwise! Refresh my jaded mind, Steven, and tell me- oh, was it a sword? A shield?”

 

Steve fought the urge to shuffle his feet, “I asked a goodwife in the market where I might find an honest baker,” he admitted, “And I gave them money, against when… well, against when someone might stop to look, and smell “, and pretend it’s a meal.  And, to add a ha’penny weight to the bread for widows with children.” It was a foolish thing to do, but he remembered- oh, what a ha’penny of bread would have meant to his mother!

 

Tony stared at him, “You… are an impossibility.”

 

“No,” Steve grumbled, “Just me.”

 

“That’s what makes it so,” Tony said, settling the Knight on his desk beside his inkwell, “Guard that,” he told it, and smiled at Steve, “Come on then, we’ve a Court to hold.”

 

*

“Good gods, how are you so terrible at politics?” Tony groaned, taking off his crown and massaging his temples.  Steve tried his hardest to look abashed, and failed rather terribly. Bucky said it wasn’t his strong suit, lying. While it had not been a peaceful day at court, it had certainly been… productive, Steve thought.  “You single-handedly argued Lord Roland to a standstill.”

 

“Lord Roland was wrong,” Steve protested as he helped unclasp the heavy robe and chains without being asked, settling his hands on Tony’s shoulders and kneading at the muscle almost absent-mindedly, “All I did was expound upon the depths of his delusionment.”

 

“You called him a war-mongering fool.” Tony straightened the toy Knight on his desk, moving him from the inkwell to sit beside the crown he’d removed.

 

“Building such a large Navy in a time of peace invites ill-will,” Steve said, “And will overtax the coastal towns.”

 

Tony snorted, leaning back into Steve’s hands, “Well, you did warn me,” he agreed, “And - he is something of a war-mongering fool.”

 

“I found him to be so,” Steve smiled a little, “Although I am a little surprised by how many of the Nobles are just…” he stepped away from the King, refusing to acknowledge how empty his hands felt without the lean-muscled shoulders beneath them.

 

“Just people?”

 

“Lord Xavier was very kind. And Lady Knight Danvers- it’s amazing, what she’s doing with her keep, and her on the border! I would dearly love to see it.”

 

“Perhaps I’ll take you,” Tony said, “Someday. I should go on a Congress, anyhow.”

 

The idea of it- of going on a Congress with the King, with being actually a Lord, not just an upstart who didn’t know his place, of seeing all the sights in the Kingdom- took his breath away.  He let himself imagine it.

 

It could never be, but he could dream. “I doubt my lord husband would approve,” he said.

 

“And you wouldn’t want to upset him, as good a husband as you are,” Tony replied, and Steve felt the hidden sting at the words.

 

“I do my duty,” he replied, firmly, “And give no reason for complaint upon me.” He did not dare, and his pride was a low enough cost for what he’d bought with it.

 

“Forgive me,” Tony made a face, “That was uncalled for- I don’t know why I- I’m petty at times, and I-“

 

Steve laughed a little, “I like you better for it,” he admitted, “That you’re a man, I mean, not just…” he shrugged.  

 

“I would that you always remember that,” Tony said earnestly, “That I am a man, like any other, with like foibles and passions.”

 

“I’ve a terrible temper,” Steve admitted, fetching his little packet of sweets from the pocket of his jerkin and offering it to Tony.  It felt familiar, and pleasing, to share a treat with him, even if Tony could likely have all the candies he desired.

 

“And a sweet tooth,” Tony teased.

 

“I do like sweet things,” he agreed, smiling at Tony, and tried to imagine another reason for his friend to flush other than his words.

 

It was warm in the room, after all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! Forgive me my typos- I write on my phone while my son naps. Please comment, it keeps me going!


	8. Word Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony reflects on the duties of a King, and is surprised by Steve’s talents.

Tony came to anticipate the weekly court appearance, as Steve made friends and enemies alike, and joined him for a private supper after the evening feast.  Tony confided he didn’t like to eat before the entire court after a long day. He was not looking forward to the winter session of court, when he held court a full five days a week, and a true feast every Friday and into Saturday. On Saturday he would be expected to provide diversions and entertainment.  On the last day of the week, he would have his only day ‘off’ from his duties.

 

Gods, he hated winter- but perhaps it would be bearable, with Steve there, and when Tony and Pepper returned. But, for now, it was still autumn, though a cold one, and Tony had greater leisure to spend time with whomever he chose- or alone.  In the past, he would have chosen the latter, in general, but now he found he appreciated Steve’s quiet presence and found it no burden upon his liberty. Steve would set himself in a warm nook by the workshop furnace, and draw by the hour. He also sometimes borrowed a book or scroll from the library and perused it, fingers careful along delicate gilt edges, and eyes bright as he took in the etchings and fine artistry Tony’s mother had amassed.

 

Tony stretched, trying to loosen the knots in his shoulders and back from stopping over the desk and workbench for so many hours.  If he did it often enough- or dramatically enough- Steve would look at him and his eyes would narrow, and then he’d pat his thighs in invitation- invitation Tony was only too eager to attend!- and rub the tightness from the muscles.

 

He’d talk, then, soft and low and accented, about things Tony treasured, because they came from Steve and from Steve’s happy past. Somehow, it was happy, although many of the stories involved hardship or sickness.  Tony longed to have such tales to tell, because Steve always had a companion- his mother, or Bucky, or the Howling Commandos.

 

It shone a stark light on his current situation, of which Steve never spoke, unless he could not help it.  When he did discuss his husband, marriage, or wedding (it was so fast, Tony, it was all a blur, I don’t recall-) he did so in brief, stilted words, eyes turned away from Tony, turned inwards to some pain Tony could not approach.

 

Steve was too enamored by his most recent drawing to note Tony’s increasingly elaborate stretching, so the King went and peered over Steve’s shoulder- and stared in shock.

 

“That’s the treaty with Asgard,” he gasped, and Steve startled upright as Tony snatched the sketchbook, “That’s- that’s my father’s signature, and All-Father Odin’s- how-“ he flipped through the pages, and saw-

 

So many, many faces, some familiar, some not, and nearly as many pages or scraps of written word, all elaborate calligraphy and graceful lines- all perfect copies of their sources (what sources he recognized, as there were also military notes on movements written in a spiky hand, and fragile-lettered receipts for tinctures and poultices). He came upon figure studies, male and female, faceless and stiff, and his own hands, holding the crown between them. Had he not seen the sketchbook when it was empty, he would think…

 

What would he think? Steve snatched the book back, clutching it to his chest like a mother would her babe.

 

“Why are you- what are you about, copying these things?”

 

“I didn’t know it was a treaty,” Steve said sullenly, “I liked the-“ his shoulders drew together, angry and tight, “I know that I am an idiot,” he muttered, “And a common lout, but I do not forget what I have seen, and some pieces of writing are very pretty- and when I was young I could earn some coin, copying messages and receipts or what-have-you-“

 

“You draw these from memory?” Tony asked faintly.

 

“I suppose it would be harder, were I trying to recall words and a message rather than an image,” Steve said bitterly, “But as I am not burdened by meaning-“

 

“That is a gift,” Tony said sharply, “Show me- here-“ he held out a copy of his latest missive to Pepper, and Steve looked at it a moment, and then back at him, questioning. “Write it.”

 

Steve bit his lip, turned to a fresh sheet, and-

 

“Don’t you need to look at it longer?”

 

“No,” Steve replied, already working on- he was starting with the signature- “I saw it,” he said crossly, “I can remember it.”

 

Good gods. “You…” Tony watched as Steve recreated the missive like an artist, not a writer, often forming letters backwards or sideways to how someone who was writing letters would do. It was a nearly perfect copy of his own handwriting, word for word, growing under Steve’s fingers. “Steve, forgive me, I should have asked- do you want to- to learn to read?”

 

Steve’s fingers flexed on the paper and he shook his head, bowing further over his work.

 

That was not the reaction he’d expected, in the slightest. He’d thought Steve would be pleased, would give him that smile, not nearly close himself up like a hermit crab!

 

Why? “Only, I know you like stories,” Tony continued, “And you’re clever, you could learn to read in no time-“

 

“I asked my Lord husband,” Steve replied, “If I might have a tutor. He forbid it.”

 

By the gods, the man was a bastard! “Why?”

 

“I did not ask,” Steve replied, “But I do well enough, without. I can work sums, and that’s more important anyways.  You’ve paid me enough I can hire someone to read stories to me,” he grinned at Tony, “In fact, I think I may. It would be a pleasure to have someone to do that.”

 

And once again, Tony was deflected from asking about Sosa.  He frowned to himself at it, but did not wish to cause Steve distress. “You’ll Work the poor person to death,” he laughed, “Reading military movements and treatises-“

 

“...there are such things?”

 

“Oh, Steve,” Tony shook his head, “You will definitely work some poor soul to death- but you will love the library.”

 

“I already do,” Steve smiled shyly, “It reminds me of you, so many volumes- so peaceful and chaotic at once - and I can understand only a fraction, but I know- I know there’s so much beyond what I can see.”

 

Tony blinked at him, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks, “A very pretty compliment,” he said huskily, “To be sure.”

 

Steve’s smile was bright as he replied, “None other would suit you, Tony.”

 

“No,” Tony agreed slowly, “None other would.”

 

Damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you’re enjoying this story! Comments and kudos are life!


	9. Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of chess is played- and Tony cannot see all the angles.

Now, Tony thought as Steve beamed at him across the chessboard.  They’d played long past when everyone else was abed, chasing one another around the board, cheerfully cursing each other as piece after piece fell, until Steve’s Consort held Tony’s King in full check.

_Now._

Tony closed the gap between them, what little there was, and pressed his lips to Steve’s.  He felt him jolt as if stuck by a pin, and was about to pull back, beg pardon for miscalculating so terribly, when Steve’s lips parted and he made a soft sound against Tony’s mouth.

Oh, oh _yes_ , he thought, exultant and fierce, this was what he’d wanted since he’d first seen Steve, and everything after only stoked the furnace of his desire higher.  Not only did Steve have unexpected beauty, but he had unexpected strength of both body and character. He would make a perfect consort, to have him hold me in check would be such a sweet pleasure, Tony thought, and let himself imagine it, imagine Steve at his side for better and worse, in health and sickness, of choosing an heir and-

And Steve tore away with a low cry, “No, my King, I beg-” his face was flushed, tears standing in his eyes.

Cold swept over him and he pulled back, “Steve, I-”

“I can’t, please,” Steve’s voice was broken, and Tony looked at his face, and was warmed to see that it was not lack of desire he saw there, but fear, regret, and stubbornness.

“You can,” Tony said, coaxing, “You can, Steve, you can divorce him, and come to me.  You know I would do right by you.”

“It isn’t- it isn’t that,” Steve laughed without humor, drawing away, “Gods, this isn’t - it isn’t fair.”

“What is it, then?” Tony asked, “You have only to tell me, and I will help you, or give it to you. You know I can.”

“It’s too late, Tony, please, don’t ask me. Don’t offer me a gift I cannot take, that I _yearn_ -“

“I don’t understand- Steve, darling,” Gods it felt good to call him that, “Tell me you love him, and I’ll never ask you again.”

Steve turned his face away, jaw clenched tight, “That doesn’t matter.”

“And you- you could love me, couldn’t you? You said you yearn-? Would it be so hard, to grow to love me? I would be good to you, Steve, I would never give you cause to regret-“

“Ah, but you would come to regret me,” Steve told him, “And your court- the nobles- would not stand for it.”

“To hell with them. I am King!”

“And who dares tell you no, hm?” Steve’s eyes flashed.

Tony jolted back as if from a blow, “That- that was unkind, Steve.”

“Tony-I am sorry, I did not mean it in such a cruel manner, only-“ Steve was shivering now, grown small before his eyes, and drawing away- gods, he was a beast, Steve was afraid of him, “Forgive- Forgive me if I’ve somehow led you on, or let you think I could give you more than friendship- poor enough gift as it is, when you have been so generous- oh Tony, it’s nothing you’ve done, you’ve been only kind-“ he stopped, his hands covering his face, “You’ve only been kind.”

“Not so kind,” Tony said gruffly, “If you shy from my touch. Well, go, then. Go, as you’ve wanted since you first arrived, and leave me.”

“It is not your touch that makes me shrink- I will,” Steve stood, pale, lips set in a firm line- had Tony seen them tremble or only thought it? “But I will not go far. Come morning, you- you’ll realize.  You will, and I will not speak of this.”

“I am a fool,” Tony spat, “But- but no. Do not leave entirely. I will see you in the morning, at breakfast.  Don’t forget, tomorrow starts Full Court- it’s a busy time, but your seat is assured at my table, Steve.”

“My King,” Steve bowed to him, deeply, and Tony could not think he imagined that Steve’s voice grew softer upon claiming Tony’s title. “Sleep well.”

“And you, my dear Steven.” And Perhaps by the next evening, he would be dearer still. Tony could hope.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has gotten a little bigger than I expected! Not to worry, it continues apace, but my estimate of ‘done by new year’ is a Nope. I’m getting close, though!!!
> 
> As always, comments give me strength!


	10. Musings on a Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve reflects on his marriage, and what that means to him.

The King- no, Tony- wanted him. Wanted him as a consort.  Steve covered his face with his hands and struggled against the hysterical desire to laugh until he was ill, or wept.  He’d kissed him, he’d-

 

Gods, was this how he should have felt over Sosa?

 

He closed his eyes as memory overtook him.

 

-

“And that’s two coppers you owe,” Bucky crowed, raising his fists in triumph, “I’ll drink well this e’en, Steve, by your generosity!”

 

Steve shook his head, laughing, even as he collected the pins Bucky had knocked down with his bowl, “I accept my loss as a soldier should,” he said stentoriously, “And bow to the better marksman.” He raised his hands and bowed flat to the ground, mockingly.

 

“Aww, Stevie,” Bucky pulled him in by the neck to ruffle his hair, “You aren’t bad, you’re just not me- oop! Agh! Tyrant! Oppression! Get off me, you lug!” Steve laughed as he wrestled Bucky into the dirt- their half-holiday from work was nothing but pleasure, and they’d finish this bout- Steve would win- and go eat some bread and cheese, and-

 

“James Buchanan?” A shadow fell across them, and they scrambled apart, getting to their feet to salute the watchmen. “By order of His Lordship, Charles Sosa, you are under arrest.”

 

“...what?” Bucky went milk white below his healthy sun-brown. “For what charge-“

 

“Poaching,” The watchman said, seeming almost sorry, “And trespassing on noble lands.”

 

“Poach- I haven’t- I’m a damned huntsman,” Bucky spat, “I’ve no call to poach, I-“

 

“Sirrah,” the second watchman struck Bucky across the cheek- he stumbled, staggering under the blow, “Be silent. You will come with us peaceably or we will clap you in chains!”

 

The neighbors looked out at doors and windows, frightened and quiet.

 

“He didn’t do it,” Steve protested, stumbling over the pins and ball in his haste to follow, “He’s been with me- we only just returned from our tour-“

 

“We have witnesses, Captain,” the first watchman said, “You’ll have to speak to his lordship. I am heartily sorry, but-“ but what could one do?

 

“I will,” Steve drew himself up, “Don’t worry, Buck, you’ll be out in time to take my money.”

 

His friend looked at him, eyes luminous and terrified, “Stevie-“ the watchmen dragged him to the waiting cart.

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Steve promised, taking his hand, “You’ll be all right, Bucky!” The cart jolted forward, and pulled Bucky’s hand from his grasp. “Don’t worry!”

 

It would be all right.

 

It had to be.

 

Steve was worried sick.

 

Lord Sosa wasn’t necessarily… reasonable.

 

Some hours later, he was granted audience with the Lord Sosa himself, and he stood in his uniform, looking up at the man.  He was a decade or more older than either Steve or Bucky, but still possessed of a fine figure, though his face was somewhat florid from ill-temper and drinking overmuch.  He held himself well- he had long been a knight of the realm, and known for his strength.

 

Steve bowed.

 

“So,” The man drawled, standing from the chair and coming down from the Dias, “You’re the one the people call Captain, Mm?”

 

“Yes, my lord. I’ve come to- to beg your kindness in hearing the case of  one taken into custody today-“

 

“James Buchanan, yes,” he smiled, sharp as a serpent’s tooth.  Oh, dear gods, let it be an error...

 

“You know of him, then? Of the accusations made against him? My lord, he could not have done it.”

 

“Mm. What is it you wish from me?” Sosa poured himself wine, swirling it in the glass and smiling. Steve had never seen such fine glass, so delicate. It didn’t look right in Sosa’s crude hand.

 

“Reconsider. Question the witnesses, allow me- and our men- to bear witness to his whereabouts. He did not do it, he could not have-“ the man shook his head, pursing his lips,

 

“I cannot afford to do so,” he said, “Not on mere hearsay, when I have witnesses, my dear captain.

I would gain the reputation of a soft Lord! No. No, he must suffer the penalties…”

 

Steve closed his eyes, his entire being drawn tight to the point of snapping.

 

Bucky would lose his hand. He would lose his hand, he would be flogged through the streets of Brooklyn Town and left in stocks for the guards for a half-day, and then, if he was still alive, shut into the tower dungeon.  Gods only knew what his suffering would be there. “Unless…”

 

Steve held his breath, “Please,” he whispered, “My lord, please, show some mercy, he is a good and loyal man-“

 

“I could, I suppose,” Sosa was suddenly very close, and his hand rested on Steve’s shoulder, “Be persuaded to show myself kind. As a gift to my husband.”

 

Steve frowned.

 

Husband?

 

“Did…” he spoke thickly, his tongue sore from being bitten and his throat closing from fear, “I am sorry, my lord, I did not know you had married. If I might speak to your Lord husband, make my plea-“

 

“Oh, you simpleton,” Sosa purred, “I mean if you were to agree to wed me, become lawfully of a flesh with me.”

 

...what?

 

“What?” Steve asked faintly.

 

“Marry me,” Sosa said, “And I won’t punish your dear friend Bucky as a poacher.”

 

Marry… agreeing to fuck him, Steve could understand a Noble asking that of him,  “But… why?”

 

“The people of Brooklyn love you nearly as much as they dislike me,” Sosa shrugged, “Besides, simple you may be, boy, but a fool you are not.  You served like an officer in the Unrest. You are privy to many reasons a Lord might wish for someone like you to be close.”

 

Protection. Sosa needed his protection. He was…

 

He could save Bucky, all he had to do-

 

“Would it be such a hardship, to be a Lord yourself?”

 

He didn’t know the first thing-

 

He’d hoped to wed for love or friendship- but wasn’t that what he was doing?

 

“I have your word?”

 

“I will swear it before the priest.”

 

“I will wed you.” The words caught in his throat.

 

“Thought you might! Zola! Fetch the priest!”

 

Steve couldn’t recall much of what happened then- he was taken into a side chamber and given water to wash with and a robe to put on.  Wine was poured into one of the fragile glasses, but he could not drink it. He went with the Lord’s man, Zola, back into the court chamber, where a priest awaited, along with the guildmasters of Brooklyn Town, to bear witness.

 

Sosa took his hand and held it fast.

 

The priest asked if he was there of his own will, and Steve answered him yes, even as Sosa clenched his fingers so tight they ached.

 

Sosa swore before the priest and altar that he would keep his courting promises to Steven, the Captain, formerly of the 107th- and Steve knew suddenly his career was over but all he could see was Bucky’s face, hear him cry out Stevie, help me-

 

The priest announced them wed, and Sosa laughed, taking his arm in no fond manner as he addressed the assembly,“My husband and I go to celebrate our passions and shared life,” he said loudly, “Be dismissed and drink our health- Zola will see to you.” The room went into a hubbub, and Lord Sosa pulled Steve along with him, out of the hall, down the corridor and into the study. Sosa poured himself a glass of wine, and offered Steve a drink from the glass.  He took some, tasted the bitter sweetness of it on his tongue.

 

“Well, husband,” Sosa said, unlacing his breeches, “I would see what I have got, mm?”

 

Steve’s fingers were numb and stupid as he fumbled at the laces, and Sosa snorted, pushing his hands away, “You’d think you’d never done this,” he muttered.

 

Gods. “I have not, my lord,” Steve managed, and sharp pale eyes flashed to his face, hunger and disgust in equal measure gleaming there.

 

“Well,” he said, “A truly appropriate choice for a Lord, then, eh? I did think the White suited you- and don’t worry, sweeting, I have proven myself a man, not some blushing maiden.” His hands were not quite so rough as he turned Steve about, guiding him by the back of his neck so he was bent across the desk, breeches and smallclothes pulled to his ankles, as spread as he could manage and-

 

This was happening, Steve thought almost hysterically, he was- and here, now, over this desk- his fingers curled around the far edge and he clung to the smooth wood and what shreds remained of his dignity as his husband groaned his pleasure taken from Steve’s body into his ear.  

 

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt and he hated it- but he could endure. He would. Bucky needed him to do this, it was this or-

 

He wished it hurt like being wounded, something he could ignore, but there was no ignoring or pressing past the deep ache and burn, the stickiness of seed and oil on his thighs.  But, at least it was over quickly.

 

He had only his smallclothes to hand to use to clean himself, but the thought of leaving it on his skin-

 

He wiped it away, couldn’t control his hand shaking, and laced his breeches into place. He turned, and looked at his husband in truth, now, and couldn’t keep back the bile from rising in his throat. Sosa was smiling, smug and dark, pulling out the certificate of witness the priest had made them sign- a star within a circle.

 

“Why do you not write your name?” Lord Sosa asked, drawing Steve to sit on his knee- gods above, was this to be his life?- and Steve shrugged,

 

“I cannot read or write.” Gods, he wanted fresh smallclothes… he needed to bathe.

 

Sosa pushed Steve away from him, eyes alight in wrath. “You cannot read or write?”

 

“What does it matter?” Steve asked, startled.

 

“So the missives from myself to Lord Stone, and Lord Hammer- you did not read them? I have seen you write!”

 

Missives… ah, he remembered them in his tent, and Bucky asking why he had letters from the lords to each other there- and he’d sent them on with apologies, with Bucky writing the notes.  “I did not mean to mislead anyone,” he replied, “It’s true,

I cannot. I can only copy what others have written- if I see it once, I can make a facsimile identical to the original, but I have no understanding of the words themselves as anything more than dips and troughs, jots and tittles.”

 

“My gods,” The man groaned, “You-“ he laughed, a low, bitter, terrible sound, “You’ve no idea what you held in your hands, you common lout!”

 

“What?” Steve shook his head, confused, “What about Bucky-“

 

“Bucky?” Sosa sneered, “I will keep my vow- he won’t be harmed but I will keep him under lock and key, and you- you-“ he pointed at Steve, “Well. You are my husband,” he said, and the anger turned to a smile that froze Steve’s blood.

 

Being his husband, Steve found, was not much like fairy tales made such things to be.

 

Sosa gave Zola orders to see him dressed properly, and he walked in view of the people daily with Steve on his arm, and the people seemed happy Steve was made a Lord- after all, he had saved Brooklyn Town, and the kingdom!  

 

He wasn’t permitted to go outside on his own.  Always, Zola accompanied him when he went to the training grounds or marketplace. Eventually, he stopped going. He ate his meals alone in the bedroom he shared with his husband- well. When Sosa chose.

 

He’d made the mistake of going to find him, once.  He’d been balls-deep in one of the maids. He’d have stepped in, if she hadn’t been shouting yes, yes, yes, oh Charlie-

 

He’d told Steve to call him ‘my lord’.

 

Steve had closed the door softly behind himself, and went to his room, calling for yet another bath.  He couldn’t get his skin clean, even with all the fancy soaps and salts, a page scrubbing his skin raw with a brush. In the morning, he went to the healer and shamefully asked for herbs to protect himself from a dallying husband.

 

The woman shook her head, pitying him, and gave him the tinctures.

 

He did his duty, no matter the hour, and learned to hasten the completion of the act, moving against Sosa and gritting his teeth against cries of pain- and ignoring the way Sosa called him a slut, a wench, an idiot- and bringing him to completion. There was nothing else for it, not if he wanted Bucky to be safe.  He imagined, sometimes, turning on him, throwing him off, beating him against the wall until he went still and that smile was gone.

 

He never did. Sosa smiled, patting his ass as if he were a horse, and told him he was a good ride, for a prude.

 

Then, came the day he was summoned to the King’s Court, to be presented as a Lord of the realm.  Sosa made Zola teach Steve how to do it properly, and the night before Steve left-

 

“Come here,” Sosa said sharply from the doorway, and Steve looked up from his dinner of soup and bread, pencil still in hand. He was drawing again, Bucky’s face smiling from the paper. “Leave that trash and come here.” Steve obeyed, following him from the Keep to the courtyard wall that abutted the prison.  

 

Guards brought Bucky into the prison yard, and Sosa waved a hand down to them- Steve cried out, lunging forward as a guard knocked Bucky to his knees, dragging him by the hair, pushed against the whipping post. “Know this,” Sosa hissed in his ear, “If you breathe a word of this to the King- or anyone at the court- I will hear of it, and he will die. Horribly.  You will go, present yourself, and return to me. Do you understand?” Steve nodded mutely. Sosa waved again, and Bucky was dragged back into the prison.

 

“I hate you,” Steve whispered, the wind catching the words from his mouth. He’d go to the capitol, he’d do what he had to do, and he’d be back, and- and nothing would happen to Bucky.

 

Of course, that wasn’t what happened-

 

*

 

A knock at the door drew Steve from his reverie.  Tony? He frowned, crossing to the door and opening it.

 

“Well, hello, darling,” Charles smirked at him, sliding into Steve’s room and closing the door behind him, hands going to his breeches lewdly, “Show me how much you’ve missed me, husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! You meet Sosa! But oh no! What will happen to poor Steve?
> 
> I apologize, but italics just won’t work for me because I write on my phone >_<. I appreciate your patience.


	11. Love-Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve isn’t there for breakfast, but his husband is.

Tony did not sleep after Steve left him. He paced his room, he drew schematics for gearwork soldiers to accompany the one Steve had given him, he wrote a proposal to send Sosa to serve as ambassador to T’challa’s court- burned that proposal- and finally, finally, watched dawn’s gray tones give way to gorgeous, flamboyant color.

 

Steve would be at breakfast, they would talk, Tony would hold court and be brilliant and Steve would be impressed, they would ride in the afternoon and this time, this time, he would let Tony kiss him, in a cold evergreen copse, he would let Tony spread his fur on the ground and oh, perhaps even show so generous as to let Tony warm him somewhat, he would be cold- Steve hated to be cold.

 

And speaking of cold, Tony needed to apply some cold water to portions of his anatomy, if he wished to impress the court with his person and not his manhood.  Jarvis came in just as Tony was putting on fresh smallclothes and under-robe. Tony beamed at him and dressed quickly.

 

Steve would be at breakfast.

 

The heralds announced him, and Tony made his way to the head of the table, nodding to one or another of the nobles freshly arrived for Court season.  Steve and Rhodey and Pepper’s places- all empty. His face betrayed nothing as he nodded to Jarvis to begin the meal.

 

He put food on his plate mechanically, and ate without tasting anything.  Where was Steve? He’d said- perhaps he’d decided he didn’t want Tony at all, even as a friend.

 

Perhaps he’d fled, to keep his virtue intact. Gods, he was a fool to think one as pure of heart could deign accept suit from him- but he’d accepted Sosa-

 

The Herald stepped forward, looking in no way pleased, “His Lordship Charles Sosa, of Brooklyn Town and Bridge asks that he be granted entrance, Majesty!”  The Court stilled, all eyes turning to Tony.

 

...what.

 

And they hadn’t announced Steve at the same time, he wasn’t with Sosa, he-

 

“Yes, grant him entrance,” he said, and the Lord came in behind the Herald. “Lord Sosa,” he called, “I assume you have only just arrived?”

 

The Hall was silent as Sosa walked the length of it to make his obeisance.  Tony left him kneeling a few seconds longer than courtesy should dictate, as a somewhat gentle indication that he was aware of Sosa’s breach of etiquette, to enter a meal after the King.

 

“I beg your pardon, Majesty,” Sosa dipped his head, “There were matters I had to attend to, which preoccupied my mind from the time. It shan’t happen again.”

 

“See to it that it does not. And where is your husband? I would have thought him to be with you,” Tony asked, a chill creeping through his bones.

 

“Lord Steven is yet abed,” Sosa said glibly, as if that was something Steve did, “I arrived in the late hours and perhaps was overeager to be reunited with my lord husband. ” A little titter and rush of whispering swept the court, and Tony smiled his father’s smile.

 

“I see. Oh, forgive me- you may be seated, of course.” He waved towards an open seat nearby, and Sosa went to it.  

 

Overeager to be reunited- unbidden, images rose to his mind of Steve taking his pleasure with another, beautiful flush on his cheeks down to his chest, lip caught between his teeth as he moaned-

 

Tony took a bite of his sausage, a sip of coffee, and looked down the length of the table.  There were many looking at Sosa with disgust, and some peeping at Tony from the corners of their eyes to see if Steve were perhaps less Gentleman of the Bathing Chamber and more Gentleman of the Bed. “By your leave, Majesty,” Lord Stone addressed him, “I had thought to lead out a hunting party today, as we are still missing many members of your court and cabinet.”

 

“A splendid plan,” Tony nodded, “We will postpone court for the morrow, when all can arrive in a timely fashion.” He looked at Sosa sharply as he spoke, and was gratified immensely to see his ears and cheeks redden. Good.  He was in disgrace, he should be ashamed! “Alas, I cannot join,” he shrugged, for what did he care to miss a hunting party?

 

Sosa joined the party- he and Stone were old friends, and birds of like feathering - and Tony waited for the horses to sweep from the gate before making unseemly haste for Steve’s room.

 

The placard turning away servants was in place, and the lock turned closed, but Steve did not answer to his knock or call.  The chill in his bones was now a block of ice in his belly as he drew his key from his belt and opened the door.

 

The room was chilled, the fire burnt down to the last smoldering embers. “Steve?”

 

No answer, and he looked ‘round the room, his gaze falling on the bed. “Oh, Gods,” he whispered, “Steve!” He rushed forward, reaching to take his hand.  It lay limp upon the pillow, and Tony tore his gaze from Steve’s face- slack with unconsciousness, lips swollen- and down his body.  He choked on a sob, fury, pity, and sorrow warring for first place in his chest as he took in Steve’s full form for the first time.

 

He’d wanted Steve to show him, to smile at him with that sweet mouth and warm eyes as he drew Tony in and in Tony’s mind, let slip a robe to show himself bared to Tony’s gaze and hands beneath. He’d imagined it so often that to see the truth broke something within him.

 

This was no willing gift to him, this damned offense to Steve’s modesty could not be endured, and yet, he could not tear his gaze away. Steve lay upon his belly, his nightshirt torn, his hands by his head, legs spread. From the bottom of his ribs to the tops of his knees were long, hideous stripes, purple and black and blue, the skin split in a few places and blood had trickled down to stain the white sheets. Tony’s fingers trembled as he covered him, and rushed to ring for Jarvis, pulling the bell in the old code he’d used as a boy- two sharp pulls, two breaths, one pull, and then two more.

 

/Help me./

 

This- this was no love-game.  Not this. It could not be. Tony was familiar enough with pleasure through pain, had even imagined bending Steve across his knees and using his hand upon that perfect ass, but- but this…

 

He heard Jarvis in the corridor, and others with him, and cried out, “Only Jarvis is to enter! It is your life to disobey!”

 

Jarvis came into the room, eyes going wide as he looked at Steve on the bed. Tony choked on a sob as Jarvis turned back the sheet he’d put over Steve, and the old man bit his lip. “Parker,” he called into the hallway, “Fetch Lord Banner immediately. I also want fresh-boiled water, clean cloths, ice, beef tea, and the best brandy. Tony, you must sit, or you will fall on him,” he said gently, “And I doubt that will do him any good. He is only fainted, poor man.”

 

“I did not dare turn him, to see if there be other injury upon him,” Tony croaked, “Jarvis-“

 

“When he wakes, he will tell us what we need to know,” Jarvis assured him, “What blackguard dared use him thusly, and Justice will be served, my King.”

 

“I will have him flayed,” Tony hissed, “And set afire.”

 

Jarvis did not counsel his king to keep his temper, which was as good as permission for Tony.

 

Steve stirred, moaning softly, and Tony took his hand, “Steve, lie still,” he coaxed, “You are safe, I am here and no one will-“ he choked. “I’m here, Steve, darling.”

 

Blue eyes opened and flirted around the room with little clarity in his gaze.  He fixed his eyes onTony, frowning as he tried to understand- and a smile broke across his face like dawn, “Tony,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to the back of Tony’s hand, where Tony still held his fingers threaded through Steve’s, “Oh, I longed for you to come, I knew-“ he slipped away again, and Tony bent over him, hot tears falling into tarnished gold hair.

 

Bruce burst into the room, and his sharp gaze took everything in. “Oh.” He looked at Jarvis, “Water and cloths? Ice?”

 

“All sent for.”

 

“Good. And just as well he is not aware,” Bruce set his bag down beside the bed, “He will be in a world of agony, after a caning so harsh.”

 

“Cane?”

 

“Did you not see it on the fire?” Bruce nodded to the cold hearth, and Tony saw it now, the handle of a rattan cane half-burned amongst the ash. “No wonder you wouldn’t,” he continued, gentle fingers combing through Steve’s hair, grunting satisfaction that he felt no bruising there- he did not touch the welts yet, and he moved to look between Steve’s legs- Tony kept himself from attacking his friend and healer by force of will as Bruce carefully spread Steve’s cheeks and made a soft hissing sound, “He has been taken without much care for his wellbeing,” he confirmed, “The bastard spilt his seed.” Steve stirred again, a little cry coming from his throat as Bruce carefully ensured he’d come to no internal harm.

 

“Flayed,” Tony promised Steve, pressing a kiss to his temple, “And castrated.”  

 

There was a knock at the door, and Jarvis went to collect the items from Parker.  Bruce set to work, cleaning the few open wounds and where Steve had been violated, and applying salve and chipped ice upon the rest. “He will likely be unable to rise or sit for some time,” Bruce said, “He won’t be able to attend you at court, Tony.”

 

“You think I give a shit?” Tony spat, “About Court?”

 

“You must,”Jarvis said gently, and Tony looked at him pleadingly, “Jarvis, you heard him-“

 

“Today’s session was already canceled,” Jarvis pointed out, “You can stay with him today, but you know-“

 

“I do,” Tony agreed, miserably, “Gods, don’t remind me, I- for now, just a moment, please, can I not be only a man?” He pleaded. “He asked for me, I cannot- I will not leave him, and damn the cost!”

 

“He should wake soon,” Bruce said, with his usual calm, “When he does, give him a very little beef broth and some wine or brandy. I will leave a tincture for the pain, and return in the afternoon to see he has not taken fevers.  Refresh the ice once or twice, if it eases him. Some find it makes the pain worse.”

 

Tony nodded, and clung to Steve’s hand.  He would wake soon. He would not take fever. All would be well once Sosa was flogged through the streets without his balls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Comments are life.


	12. Pandering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sosa and Tony come to an... agreement.

Steve woke just before noon, and Tony’s heart broke as he tried to crawl to his hands and knees in the bed, whimpering in pain, only for his arms to give out. “Easy,” Tony soothed, “Easy, be at peace.  I’m here, I haven’t left you.” That did not seem to soothe Steve, and he jerked away from Tony’s hand, fear and shame writ large on his face.

 

“You should not be here,” he managed to say after he drank a few sips of beef tea from the cup Tony held to his lips, “Tony, if you care a whit for me-“ he struggled to sit up, and Tony couldn’t help but want to cry at his stubbornness, as he did what Bruce had said he’d likely be unable to do.  He was pale, wavering even as he held himself up with hands braced against his knees, sides heaving as he fought for air.

 

Gods, he should not find him magnificent in such pain.

 

“I do,” Tony told him seriously, “And I will not leave you here alone.” he shook his head, “How did no one hear you cry mercy?” He asked what he’d been wondering, and Steve looked away, sucking in a harsh breath. “Steve,” he pleaded, horror growing, “You told him no, did you not? This wasn’t- you couldn’t have wanted this, I know you!”

 

“He is my husband,” Steve said quietly, not looking up from the coverlet, from his hands clenched together, “It is not my place- I will not tell him no.”

 

“Steve, he beat you bloody, I found you fainted from pain, ” Tony pleaded, “He- Gods, you’re torn from him taking his pleasure, and you say it’s not your place?  Steve, I cannot pretend to understand what you’ve suffered since you wed that animal-“

 

“He’s never done this before,” Steve replied, “He felt himself played a fool before the court,” he said, head bowed and cheeks flushed, “That I made a cuckold of him.”

 

Tony made an impolite sound, “So you admit this was meant as punishment?”  Steve shot him a look, and Tony saw fear in his eyes, “Do you understand that I can ensure he never touches you again? If you but tell me that you did not desire his touch in such a fashion, that I will have him thrown from the ramparts in a barrel of flaming pitch? He has no power here, Steve.”

 

“Please,” Steve begged, “Your majesty, you don’t understand.”

 

“So make me understand!”

 

“Majesty,” the guard at the door spoke, “Lord Sosa requests entrance. What are your orders?”  Tony looked at Steve, saw his eyes go dark with fear, and nodded sharply, “Send him in, but stay at the door. I may have need of you.”

 

Sosa looked displeased as he entered, looking sharply from the King to Steve and back, even as he made a proper obeisance, “So soon forgotten your vows, Steven?”

 

“I’ve forgotten nothing,” Steve said weakly, “And have done nothing, my Lord, save my duty.”

 

Sosa snorted, “So, Majesty,” he said, “What has my husband told you, eh? That he’s ill-used, though I raised him from nothing and gave him honor-“

 

“Husband, please,” Steve begged, slipping to his knees- Tony felt ill, to see him abase himself before that snake, and he moved quickly to support him as he swayed, “I haven’t. I wouldn’t, you have honored our vows, have you not? I would never-“

 

“Hush, I spoke to the King, not you. I heard your protestations of innocence last e’en, and was ready to forgive you, but here I find you, closeted with the king in naught but a shirt! Have you no shame?”

 

“That,” Tony said sharply, “Is enough, Lord Sosa. I will not tolerate such speech in my presence, and would urge you to be very wary even when out of my earshot!”

 

“I beg your pardon.”

 

“You may well beg it!” Tony snarled, “Only Steven’s reluctance to call your abuse what it is spares your miserable life, Charles.  If he says but one word- if I hear a whisper from a servant that says they heard him call for your mercy- I will have you castrated and flogged through the streets- you will finish your miserable life serving as a torch upon the outer walls!” Gratifyingly, the man went pale, gaze dropping to Steve.  Steve leaned against Tony’s thigh, panting for breath, and Tony startled as he felt his skin- he was flush, his skin damp to the touch.

 

“I see you’ve grown fond of him,” Sosa said slowly, a smile spreading on his face, slow and oily, “He is quite… quite a pretty picture, isn’t he? He does plead prettily. I imagine you like a man that can do that well.” He stepped closer, cupping Steve’s jaw in his hand, wringing an unhappy little sound from him, “When I married him, he was untouched,” he said conversationally, and Tony felt his skin crawl as the flush grew darker on Steve’s cheek, “Hard to believe, isn’t it? But true.”

 

“Please-“ Steve whispered, and the word cut into Tony like a lash.

 

“Stop,” Tony pushed his hand away, and Sosa smirked at him.

 

“Majesty,” he drawled, “He’s my husband, and the realm can’t possibly have any interest in what love-games we play, can it? Your Court would go into an uproar, did you try to dictate that, wouldn’t it?” Tears ran down Steve’s cheeks, and his eyes were closed.  He trembled against Tony’s knee, and Tony felt his hand creep ‘round his ankle, clinging to him.

 

“What do you want,” Tony spat.

 

“Want? Me? What could I possibly desire? I’m a Lord of the realm, blissfully wed to a truly beautiful man, one who accepts his place, who plays the loveliest of games…” he shook his head mockingly, “Whatever could I want? But perhaps- perhaps it’s you who holds a desire in your heart, hmm?” Bolder now, he cupped Steve’s face again, tipping his head back so his face was pointed to Tony. “Open your eyes, sweeting, look at how you effect the king, hmm?” Steve obeyed, and looked at him, and Tony vowed he’d kill the bastard, somehow. Some way. Soon. Let the court riot! “I think he wants you.”

 

“How could anyone not?” Tony replied, looking away from Steve and straight at Sosa. Sosa let go Steve’s face, and Steve fell forward onto his hands. Tony seated himself upon the bed, and let his hand rest on the back of Steve’s neck.

 

Steve did not shrink away.

 

“I won’t bring a criminal connection case to the court, should he… be found in your company,” Sosa smiled, “And I’m sure, in return, you’ll find an opportunity to be generous.”

 

“I’m sure I could,” Tony answered, his mind racing, “To be clear, are you offering him to me?”

 

“I’m saying I won’t stop you from taking him to bed.”

 

“And if Steve desires it not?” Tony asked, looking down at Steve.

 

“That would be between you,” Sosa shrugged, “I would never order him to bed you, but I’m sure you can be most convincing.”

 

Gods, he wanted- and this way, he would purchase some time, and space, to shield Steve, while he found another way to destroy that bastard. “Very well,” he said coolly, letting his fingers toy with the soft hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, unable to keep himself from providing what little comfort he could, “I presume you won’t want this… arrangement noised about the court. It would behoove you to hold your tongue.”

 

“Of course,” Sosa said, “I can ill-afford to be thought a cuck.”

 

“I will, however, want to keep him by me, near to hand,” Tony continued. “You understand.”

 

“Of course,” Sosa bowed, and Tony moved close to Steve’s side again, reaching down to his shoulder, pulling him against his side. Steve was pliant, and if Tony could not see the agony on his face, would think him unaware.  He wished he were- no one should have to hear their own sale and know what their price was held to be.

 

“Come along, Steve,” he coaxed softly, “Then you can rest.” Somehow, Steve found the strength to stand, leaning against Tony’s shoulder.  Tony took his robe from where it hung and wrapped it around his shoulders, leading him from the room.

 

Steve didn’t speak to his husband as they passed him.  Tony sent the guard ahead to ensure the hallways were clear of people, and took Steve to his rooms.  He would spare him that shame, at least, as best he could.  

 

“I’ll have Jarvis make up a bed in my dressing room for you,” Tony said, sick to his stomach as the door closed behind them and Steve started at the sound.  “It’ll be all right.” Steve looked at him, and Tony felt no joy at getting what he’d wanted since he’d first seen the man in his court.

 

It was misery to hold a stolen gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope you’re enjoying this! I’ve finished writing it, and will be posting roughly every other day, as I finish editing. 
> 
> Please comment, it makes the work worth it!


	13. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has nothing.

Words drifted past him as he knelt before his husband and his king, Tony’s hand resting lightly on the back of his neck as Sosa pandered him to the King.  He fought tears of humiliation and pain, but could hold them back no longer once the King brought him into his bedchamber, and Steve looked ‘round at the room, starting as the door shut behind him, Tony’s words a faint echo that made no sense.

 

Was it just last night he’d fantasized of being in this room? Of lying upon that bed, of Tony beside him and sweet kisses on his lips? How different the reality of it was!  He would have given anything to be with Tony, to see him take what pleasure Steve would give him…

 

Except, apparently, nothing was his to give, and he was here at his husband’s will, a paltry offering for favor with the King- and Tony- the King- had accepted.  After all, he was getting what he wanted. All the pretty compliments, the warm friendship he’d felt meant nothing- he should never have trusted a noble, never!

 

Gods, he wanted to go home, to the old room he and Bucky had shared, bare cupboards and all!  He’d go willingly back to war, for at least there he could feel himself a man!  Then, he had not been some chattel to be bartered between noble and king. He was a soldier, a damned good one.

 

He had nothing.

 

Tony - the King, damn his eyes- stood in front of him, and held his face between his cool, strong hands, thumbs to either side of his mouth, fingers along his jaw. He didn’t speak, only looked at him and Steve fought back the wild urge to make a mockery of him, to offer to show his teeth as one might a horse one judged. The temper that inspired that thought flickered our swiftly- he simply hadn’t the strength.

 

Tony’s hands felt grounding, sustaining- gentle.  Steve hated him all the more for it. He knew his face to be wet with both tears and sweat, and felt the shame of it, but distantly. The sorrow and pain cutting through him were nearer than shame.  The king let drop his hands, mouth twisting into a wry smile as he walked across the room, pouring a cup of spirits and returning to where Steve stood. He held it to Steve’s mouth, and Steve drank a mouthful, the burn welcome across his tongue for the numbness it would spread. His head grew a little clearer- the door opened, and Jarvis made a bow, “The bed is in readiness,” he said, “And I’ve sent for the ‘pprentices, just as you asked, Majesty. Is there anything else?” The King shook his head, and his hand came around Steve’s arm, tugging him gently, guiding him into another room- a dressing room, Steve realized, with a fair sized bed in it, and oh, that was almost insult to injury, but why would the King want someone like him in the royal bed-

 

The last embers of hope, that Tony was not going to do this, would show him kindness, sputtered out.

 

The King turned down the blankets, and looked at Steve, his lips tightly pressed together, “Lie down,” he commanded, “You’re shaking.”

 

Steve obeyed, because what else was there to do? The bell was rung, there was no more use to fighting, he had no honor left, and what little pride he had was not in this.  “Gods,” The King breathed, “If I never see you look at me so again, it will be too soon.” He held another cup to Steve’s lips, and Steve drank again, recognizing the bitter aftertaste of opium mixed into the spiced wine. “There will be an attendant with him whenever we are in these rooms,” The King said, and Steve startled when he saw Jarvis standing at the foot of the bed- when…? “Someone not on my payroll- an apprentice healer, an acolyte of the temple, I care not.” an attendant? Jarvis was nodding, as if this made perfect sense, but Steve’s head spun.

 

“Majesty?” He questioned, and Tony flinched at the word.

 

“The healers and priests don’t answer to me,” The King said quietly, “And will offer you protection.”

 

Protection.

 

Offer him protection?

 

“Gods, Steve, I am not- you must believe me, I did not wish- I may have mortally wounded any prayer I might have of enjoying your favors, but I- I hope I have not also lost your friendship? I saw the most expedient method to protect you, and I took it, and I see it- it cost us something I wish it had not. Sooner would I give over the crown than your trust, and I see I have it not.”

 

His trust? “You-“ he cleared his throat, tears stinging hot in his eyes, “You took what he offered. I am fairly sure my favors,” he waved a hand at himself, furious, and not caring if Jarvis heard it all-

He would be fodder for gossip soon enough, “Are yours to have at your will, such as they are. I warn you, you may find them somewhat lacking, my husband complained often enough.”

 

The King put his face in his hands, and then Tony looked back up at him, “Should I have left you with him, knowing full and well how angry he was with you for what I have done?” He asked, “And I could not forbid him you- that is beyond the reach of the crown- but he offered an opening, and I took it, and- Steve, please. I cannot bear to see you watch me the way you do that monster.  I swear to you, I will not touch you. I will not lie, I had hoped- I had hoped you would agree to be my consort, and throw that bastard over as he deserves, but I see that I’ve ruined my chances to have you of your own will. Well, that is as it may be, but I do not regret protecting you. I cannot.”

 

He’d made a shameful offer out of friendship and- Steve was not foolish enough to call it love, but surely affection. Who was Steve to judge such stupidity, as guilty as he was of the same? “You’re an idiot,” he said softly, “Tony, I would have been all right. But I-“ he looked away, unable to bear Tony’s too-knowing gaze, “I cannot help but appreciate your kindness.  Forgive me for losing faith?”

 

Tony laughed, low and bitter, “I would have lost more than faith, had what’s happened to you happened to me, or one I believed to be my-my friend- accepted such a callous offer. Give me another chance to prove myself a man worthy of your faith, and not like your husband?”

 

“Already have,” Steve said wearily, the wine and pain of the day pressing him into the bed and pushing him towards the darkness of sleep, “He’d already be finished and snoring.” He laughed a little, high pitched and hysterical.

 

Tony snorted in a very vulgar fashion, and Steve felt himself smile even as his eyes slid closed.  “Rest, my dear Steven,” Tony’s hand caressed his face lightly, “And recover your strength.”

 

If Tony said anything else, Steve did not hear it, as he was born to the arms of Morpheus on a wave of exhaustion and relief, content to trust Tony.

 


	14. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets a taste of domesticity - and plans come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you noticed the chapter count has gone down, it is due to chapters 14 and 15 being condensed into one.

The first week of open court did not, perhaps, go as well as it might have.  Rhodey was still abroad, Steve had taken a fever, and Tony fought the nearly overwhelming urge to have Sosa clandestinely murdered as he strutted about.  Fortunately, Steve’s fever kept anyone from speculating about… well, anything untoward… and Tony had ample opportunity to make plans to contain fallout, should the arrangement come to light.

 

He struggled to put the memory of Steve’s stricken face from his mind, of how he’d trembled, how small he’d seemed for a moment, standing in Tony’s room, looking at the bed with an air of dull suffering and acceptance.  

 

Tony greatly anticipated his plans bearing fruit.  He whiled away many a boring conversation by imagining Sosa on his hands and knees, begging Steve for mercy.  

 

He couldn’t quite make out Steve’s response- the thought couldn’t coalesce in his head, for all that Steve had been a soldier, and was a frankly pugilistic soul, he could not imagine him enjoying such things, much as Tony wished to give it to him.

 

But that was in the future. For now...

 

Every evening, after court, he went into his dressing room and sat beside Steve, tending him as carefully as he knew how, if he was fevered.  He asked Jarvis to show him, because he believed that Steve had had quite enough people touch him who did not care about him and his comfort. 

 

When Steve was awake and lucid, they talked and Steve helped him decipher court business, or held pieces as Tony put together a small army of clockwork knights.  He’d improved on the design of the toy Steve bought him, and then decided to build more. They amused him, and kept him busy without needing a full workshop. 

 

The evening of the fifth day, he entered his rooms to find Steve up, wrapped in a soft robe, and waiting for him with a small dinner set out before the fire.  “I thought you might still hate to eat in front of everyone,” Steve spoke first, “So I had them send up some of your favorites. I hope you don’t mind?”

 

“Mind?” Tony swallowed tightly. Mind? When this small intimacy was all he could ever have wished for from a queen or consort, this consideration of his feelings and comfort in the simplest of ways? “No, not at all- is that steak and kidney pie?” Oh gods it was, and he was suddenly ravenous. Steve smiled and set about sipping at another cup of strong beef tea- “When can you eat actual food again?” Tony asked.

 

“Bruce says tomorrow, if I don’t puke any more,” Steve said wryly, “And so far, so good.  I’m feeling better, and should be able to return to duties in a few days.” 

 

Tony snorted, “Even without the fever, I’ll warrant your arse looks like a zebra’s,” he said, and Steve laughed, taking a piece of Tony’s toast to nibble.

 

“True enough, but that was hardly my first flogging,” Steve shrugged, “It is an easy enough pain to ignore.” What wasn’t an easy pain to ignore? Tony decided he didn’t want to know, as he scarfed down a fresh apple turnover, his belly reminding him he’d barely eaten all day. “Tell me about court today?”

 

“Dull,” Tony said, “I’m hearing a right-of-way dispute, and a water rights dispute. I will no doubt have more of the same on Monday, but tomorrow is Saturday, and  _ ugh _ , I have yet to arrange-“

 

“By your leave,” Steve said, flushing, “I spoke to Jarvis, and asked how I might help you even when,” he waved a hand derisively at his robe and half-full teacup, the toast with a single bite taken from it, “I was indisposed. And he told me of the weekend amusements you generally have arranged, and so I, ah, I made the arrangements and Jarvis put the orders in, so, there’s a hunt for boar- they’re destroying winter wheat an hour’s ride to the east- with a picnic, and then of course, eating the day’s hunt in the evening. It should, hopefully, wear them out enough to have them sleep deep into the holyday- Jarvis said you would not mind? And he has not notified the servants to tell the nobles, as I did not wish to overstep-“

 

He could not have planned it better himself.  The nobles would have their sport, their sport would help a village, and tomorrow, everyone would be hungover and thus, unlikely to disturb him or anyone else.  “I will tell Jarvis to make it so. Thank you,” he said sincerely, “I was dreading that.” Without thinking, he reached across the table to squeeze Steve’s hand- Steve smiled, broad and pleased, and did not flinch away.

 

Tony bit his tongue and let his hand fall, “Do you feel strong enough to play some chess?” He asked, “I am not yet weary.”

 

“I will do my best.”  The game did not progress as it usually did, with them needling each other and jesting, because Steve slowly faded as the evening progressed, growing pale and tight lipped. Tony tipped his king, and Steve scowled at him- Tony would have been able to fight him to a standstill, if not a full checkmate- and he reached out, “It's only a game, Steve,” he said gently, “Let me help you to bed, hm?”

 

Not even a flicker of fear crossed Steve’s expressive face as he nodded, accepting Tony’s hand to rise, and leaned against him.  Tony left him at the door of the dressing room, and the apprentice healer who’d kept to a corner, rolling bandages, gathered his things and followed Steve into the room.  “I will see him to bed, Majesty,” the healer said, smiling, “I wouldn’t be surprised a bit if it’s only better from here.”

 

“I pray so,” Tony said earnestly, letting go Steve’s hand reluctantly, “I do.”

 

Steve’s ears flushed pink and his smile was small and shy, a glimpse Tony only just caught as the door slid closed.

 

What a consort Steve would have made, he thought as he looked down at the chessboard. 

 

Life was so damnably  _ unfair! _

 

_ * _

The apprentice was right- Steve’s recovery was almost unnaturally swift going forward, and soon enough, he’d returned to court.  Tony was surprised by how many of the nobles greeted him with genuine interest in his health, and even expressed to  _ Tony  _ that they’d missed Steve’s ‘refreshing cheekiness’ and ‘honest demeanor’.  When he’d reported that over dinner, Steve’s face had turned many interesting shades, and he’d looked adorably awkward.  

 

When in court, Steve paid appropriate attention to his husband- which filled Tony with blinding hatred, to see that odious creature rest his hand on Steve’s back and leaning over him to speak to another noble.  It was almost too risqué for court, but not quite enough for Tony to say anything, even in the most snide of manners. Sosa ensured he saw every little touch, every moment he took Steve’s attention, and Tony swallowed bitter bile as Steve grew more and more on edge as the day progressed.

 

Some of the more observant and kindhearted of the noblewomen- those who had been friends with Queen Maria- seemed to realize what was happening, and so there was frequently something of a protective ring of rustling taffeta and whispering velvet around Steve, or he’d be drawn into a side room to hold embroidery flosses, sip tea, or wind yarn.  

 

This evening was the beginning of the high holidays, and Tony both loved and dreaded them. A feast, of course, followed by more feasting the next day, and then, five days of themed parties, and finally, on the seventh day, a huge bonfire. It was symbolic of the turn of the year and renewal, as the sun returned to them with longer days.  Tony loved the celebrations, but hated those he celebrated  _ with _ . Ah, well, at least this year he would have Steve.  

 

The Keep was on skeleton crew, as many travelled home for the holidays, and the garrisons were all but empty as soldiers made their way to their homes to see their families and rain down gifts and good luck upon them (and no doubt, there would be many a child born nine months from the BonFire night), the markets gone quiet as, everything being in readiness, there was nothing left to do but the feasting itself.

 

Steve, as a Gentleman of the Bedchamber, sat at his left at the head of the table, with his damned husband at  _ his _ left, something Tony took pretty pleasure in.  Technically, Steve was of higher rank than Sosa himself, though he owned no land or commissions. The first course came in, and Tony half-listened as Sosa and Stone made case to him for turning away refugees from the neighboring state of Sokovia, which had been struck with terrible famine after a blight hit their main crop, potatoes.

 

Gods above, it wasn’t as if the coffers would run dry by allowing more workers into the country!  Tony appreciated the fine craftsmen and woodworkers who had already emigrated, and-

 

“Majesty!” A Herald burst into the Hall, and Tony caught Steve’s startle out of the corner of his eye. It looked as if he’d meant to stand, and… move in front of Tony? Gods above. “Majesty, nobles, beg your pardon, but word has just come-“

 

“Invasion?” Old Lord Pryor grunted.

 

“No, I don’t- it’s Brooklyn Town. The Keep and Prison and Justice hall, lords, it’s all burnt to the ground- the walls are fallen in. They aren’t certain how many perished, but none have seen any member of the guard.”  Tony’s heart sank, and he saw Steve, from the corner of his eye, as the man looked not at the herald, but at his husband.

 

“Would any of those in the prison have escaped?” Steve’s voice was low and even.

 

“They believe that’s where the fire started,” the Herald said, confused, “I would not think so, my lord.”

 

Steve nodded, and Tony watched as agony twisted his features, followed by cold determination, before Steve turned on his husband, meat-knife held expertly in one hand as the other moved to take Sosa by the throat, “You  _ utter bastard  _ -“

 

Tony’s guards lunged in, catching Steve one to each side, but it didn’t look as though that would be enough to avoid murder- “Steve!” Tony shouted, reaching into the imbroglio to grab Steve’s shoulder, “Don’t!”

 

Steve stopped, his chest heaving, and his hands dropped to his sides, letting Sosa fall forward onto the table, gasping. “Please escort Lord Steven to an unoccupied room and send for a healer,” Tony commanded, “We must send aid to Brooklyn Town ‘ere we solve the troubles of her lords!”

 

He was some hours into deliberations with Sosa, Stone, and -gods help him,  _ Hammer _ \- when a nervous looking page came to his elbow, “Majesty,” he bowed, “Lord Steven bade me give you these,” he held out a small sheaf of papers.

 

Tony took them, glancing over them- they were old letters, for all that the ink hadn’t fully dried even from the sanding- dated during the uprising.

 

...oh gods.

 

“If you call for your guards,” Sosa said coolly, “The boy dies.” The page went milk-pale, and Tony sucked in a breath of sharp, unreasoning terror.  “I see my  _ husband _ finally took leave of his goddamned mind.”

 

Or finally got it back. “What did you have over him?” Tony snapped, “How could you get Steve, if all people, to hide this?”

 

“He didn’t know what it was,” Sosa sneered, “Since the idiot can't read- I’m sure he knew, after we married, that there was  _ something _ he’d seen, but he’s a trusting sort of soul, and I had him by the balls. Come along, Majesty,” he said mockingly, “We have some work to do, once you disarm yourself.”

 

He couldn’t let the kill the Page- not only that, but who knew who he would face outside the chamber?  He obligingly removed his sword, and small belt knife.

 

Stone searched him for more, and missed the knife on the inside of his ankle. “Take them to the Tower with the others,” Sosa said, and Tony could tell by his tone he was not best pleased.  Perhaps the blow to Brooklyn was a real one? Obviously this was a coup, but who was involved? 

 

That question was swiftly answered, as he was pushed into the Tower, the door slamming closed behind, and dragged past the first level of cells - too quickly to see if they were full or empty, and dragged up the first flight of stairs, then the second, and \- oh, damn. Of course. “I’ll climb,” he said wearily as they put the tall ladder to the opening- one he had designed, and been enclosed in before, by Stane.  A twenty foot ceiling, and a hatch set in the floor of the room above was the only way in or out. Food and water could be sent up via a closed lift, only operable from the floor below, which was kept well-guarded. 

 

He went up, and pulled himself through the opening, the hatch slamming closed again. “I’m destroying this place,” he muttered, “Clever engineering or no.”

 

“I’ll help,” came a quiet voice from the darkness, and Tony almost whimpered with gratitude - he wouldn’t be alone this time. He wouldn’t be alone.  Steve was there. “Oh, Tony, I am so sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Tony said harshly, “At least- at least I’m not alone. I don’t think I could bear it, being here alone.”


	15. Enter the Huntsman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Huntsman.

Steve wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulder and tugged his thin frame against his side.  He did not stir, having grown familiar with Steve’s touch over the weeks in the Tower and Steve’s eyes burned, even as he counted each breath that Tony took.

 

There were no kings here in the Tower, or commoners, wed or bachelor, only men, only friends, and soon, well.  Soon there’d be only the one, Steve thought, and then none.

 

He remembered the first night in the Tower the most vividly- after that, days and nights and weeks blended into a morass of growing hunger, frustration, and the slow-growing recognition that they would perish before Rhodes could return.

 

That first night, though…

 

“Do you think,” Tony asked drily, his hand clutched tightly in Steve’s, “You might be able to trust me enough, now, to tell me what in bloodiest hell Sosa had over you? His part, I understand. Yours, Steve? Why wouldn’t you give me those documents before?”

 

Steve’s cheeks flamed in the dark until he felt sure Tony could see it, even in the pitch dark of the Tower- it was a cloudy night, so the windows overlooking the moat had no light to let in.  “I didn’t know what they said,” he protested, “Until you told me, just now, that they were communications between Sosa and Stane, and Hammer, and Stone, and the plan to keep Brooklyn’s forces back from your side.”

 

“Orders you never received? But-”

 

“I did,” Steve admitted, “I lied, when Rhodes asked what my orders were, you know? That day we broke through the line? Our actual Captain told me, but he died and I- I knew we could do it. That we could come through, break the siege. Give you a chance.” He’d never told anyone that, not even Bucky. Everyone knew of his deliberate disobedience over the 107th- but no one could ever know he’d done it twice.  “I’m glad I did it,” he muttered, “I’d do it again.”

 

“Circumstances aside,” Tony said, “So am I. After all, we had a chance to meet.”

 

“Yes,” Steve agreed, “We did.  I am grateful.”

 

“You won’t be, in a week or so,” Tony said wryly.

 

“I will,” Steve insisted, and did not say he’d near-starved before, and not for a reason so good as this. “But I didn’t know the letters held treason.”

 

“Would it have changed anything?” Tony asked, and Steve hesitated, thinking of Bucky’s face, of the way he looked as they dragged him away.

 

“Not at first,” he admitted, “But-but soon enough after we met- when I came to know you better- I would have trusted you.  I wish I’d known, I wish I’d just- if I had,” And oh, gods, he was grateful for the darkness, even as his hand clutching Tony’s gave him away, betrayed his agony, “Perhaps Bucky would be alive.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Tony said slowly, and Steve let the story spill from him, as he’d wished to do for so long- and found himself telling Tony even the things that didn’t matter, couldn’t matter, that he’d been afraid, that Sosa’s pleasure hurt, that even so, he’d felt shame when his husband went outside their bed for satisfaction, and how furious he had been upon hearing of Steve’s elevation in rank.

 

“I knew it was punishment,” Tony hissed in rage, “I knew it- if we ever get out of here, Steve, I will throw him from the ramparts while he burns.”

 

“But he might catch something on fire,” Steve pointed out, “Dead is dead.”

 

“Adorable that you think I care a whit about what he catches afire, so long as he suffers as he made you suffer,” Tony said, “But do go on.”

 

So Steve told him about Bucky. About how Bucky kept him from dying on the streets, how they were always together, how they’d loved each other more than anything.

 

Tony listened, and Steve wept for his brother. He wept for himself, for what he might have had with Tony and now never would.

 

Steve jolted out of the memory, certain Tony had stopped- no, no, there it was again, his chest rising and falling with each breath.  It was only his imagination. Hysterical as a maiden, he thought to himself in disgust.

 

He lifted the precious cup of water to Tony’s lips and let a few drops slide in- if Tony was asleep, he couldn’t protest! Tony swallowed, eyes cracking open and he gave Steve a little smile- a shadow of his former self, but the spark remained. “I dreamt,” he rasped, “We were out riding, you and I.  And we were to have a picnic- and you, you found a swimming hole in the river. And we swam,” he rested his head against Steve’s side again, and Steve carefully stroked his hair, “It was a good dream.”

 

“Sleep again,” Steve urged, “Perhaps after swimming we can climb trees.”

 

“Oh!” Tony breathed, his laughter almost a wheeze, “I think we can do better- we shall build a fort, Steve, where we can be away from the fort, be ourselves.”

 

He still did not regret the chance to know Tony.

 

“We will,” Steve promised, and his throat didn’t even ache as he said the words, “Together.”

 

“Mm-hmm.” Tony was drifting again- and the Tower shook as the drawbridge slammed into place for the first time since they’d been left. Tony jolted upright, looking at Steve with fiercely aware eyes. “If they offer to let you leave, you go,” he hissed as he and Steve went to the window to look out- Steve half-carrying him as they went, “Break my neck before you do, but for god’s sake-“

 

Steve growled back, “No,” And the king was about to make an appearance when-

 

“Is that- is that a Huntsman?” Tony frowned, “Dragging… my god. He’s dragging Sosa,” he breathed.

 

Steve’s heart leapt into his throat, and he clutched Tony to him, “It’s Bucky,” he breathed, “I’d know him anywhere, Tony, it’s Bucky!”

 

“How can you tell? He’s hooded and masked!”

 

“I know, I just- I know.”  Bucky was out of sight, now, having gone into the Tower, but he’d be there.  They were saved.

 

The trap-door rattled open, and Bucky bellowed, “Stevie? Steve, you up there?”

 

Tony’s eyes were wide and a little wild, “We- we aren’t going to- you go down first, Steve-“

 

“No, we go together,” Steve said, “And we aren’t.. Not here, not now. Let’s go, Tony.” He half-carried him down the ladder Bucky had put up- Bucky took half what little weight Tony had as they got closer to the ground, and by unspoken- what need did they have of words?- agreement, they did not speak until they were out of the Tower. “Buck,” Steve started, and Bucky rounded on him, pulling down the Huntsman’s scarf so Steve could see his scowl- and he laughed as he was pulled in for a rough hug and a kiss, closed-mouthed, on the lips.  Bucky held Sosa away from Steve, and Steve realized for the first time that the lord had been wounded- shot through both knees with a bow.

 

“You seem upset,” Steve teased, and Bucky grabbed him by the back of the neck and shook him like a naughty puppy. Steve laughed anyway, tearfully, and Bucky snorted,

 

“Of all the damned-fool things you’ve done, this takes the cake. You married him?”

 

“I couldn’t let him-“

 

“You should have,” Bucky said angrily, “I wasn’t worth what you went through, Steve. Gods. Majesty,” he looked at Tony with concern, letting go of Steve to pull out a waterskin, “Drink this, small sips, all right? You moron,” he returned his attention to Steve seamlessly, “You absolute ninny. Gods, I love you.”

 

“Love you too, Buck.”

 

“Let’s go get you two somewhere safe, and fed, and this one,” he half-lifted Sosa from the ground by his ankle, shook it, ignoring the man’s scream of agony as the movement jarred the arrowshaft, “Dealt with.”

 

“Put him in the Tower,” Tony said, “We can come back for him- or not. What about his friends? Is the- do we have to leave? The kingdom-“

 

Bucky’s smile was horribly sharp and full of echoes of pain, “I shot their king from his throne, and he begged my mercy, which you can see, I’ve granted,” he purred, “And released your guards from their cells. Things got a hell of a lot easier once I found your Jarvis. He’s gettin’ things ready for you now.  I threw his advisors from the parapets, and my dogs are following the last one as he flees. No. You do not have to leave.” Tony shivered, leaning into Steve’s side, and Steve didn’t know how to tell him that everything Bucky had done, he would have, too, That death came naturally, but not easily, to them. If the roles were reversed, Steve would have done the same.  

 

“You’re- a little terrifying,” Tony told him, “I’m right glad you’re on Steve’s side.”

 

“And that he’s on yours? Yeah,” he smiled, “You aren’t the first to be glad of that. Stevie, you think you can-“

 

“Yes,” Steve said, “We’ll be in the kitchens, most likely.”

 

“See you as soon as I finish putting the rubbish in its heap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update today- look for the next chapter in a few hours!


	16. Putting to Rights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony recovers strength, and sets a plan in motion to get justice- not revenge.

Tony’s head was a sick whirl as Steve helped him from the Tower drawbridge back to the safety of the Keep, and they leaned on each other as they made their slow way across the courtyard to the kitchen entrances.  There was an uproar, one Tony dimly realized was likely due to his guards, his loyal men, clearing out the last of Sosa’s supporters.

 

He let Steve take control- he knew he was hungry, and thirsty, but somehow it registered only dimly- the staff fluttered around, following Steve’s orders, and then they were alone in a warm corner of the kitchen. He leaned against Steve’s chest, and ate the bites of bread dipped in milk Steve fed him, and sipped at the hot, salty beef broth.  He turned his face away before he felt full- he also felt queasy, his stomach cramping after so long without eating. Steve hummed at him softly, “Sleep,” he said.

 

“Here?”

 

“Sosa was using your rooms,  the staff are cleaning them,” Steve told him, and Tony whined, frustrated and disgusted, “And here- there’s no way to think you’re in the Tower. It smells like food, it’s warm, and we’re in a nice patch of sunlight-“

 

“Shhh,” Tony grunted, making himself comfortable, “Sleeping.” He drifted off to sleep, lulled by Steve’s slow, steady breathing.

 

*

Reclaiming his throne- again- was less troublesome than he expected.  The nobility were relieved to see him return, and hurried to decry Sosa’s attempts to steal the crown. Tony doubted he would have been able to keep it even if Tony had died- outside of Stone and Hammer, he had no real supporters, and some real enemies.

 

All of the Consorts of the Court had collided against Sosa, apparently, in solidarity with Steve.

 

Steve, his support, his jewel, his…

 

Not his.  The memory of Steve’s delighted ‘it’s Bucky’ never failed to hit him in the belly and sicken him, their kiss on the drawbridge- well, at least he’d be happy, and the Huntsman was everything Tony could wish for Steve, and more.

 

Bastard.

 

Steve had moved back to his old rooms, and Buchanan shared with him, neither of them worrying over propriety, over gossip, nothing.  Tony couldn’t help but compare Steve’s attitude now to how guarded he’d been with Tony, how innocent and cautious- Tony had truly been imagining everything meant in friendship as love.  He was a fool.

 

But an honest one, at least. Steve had protected him from his own foolishness, and preserved their friendship, even as he took up the role of right-hand-man in the kingdom.  They did work together beautifully.

 

Finally, all that remained was the trial and sentencing.  Tony still wanted nothing more than to dip Sosa in pitch and use him as a torch, but whenever he put his mind to it, he shied away, disgusted at the cruelty of it, even though he so richly deserved it.

 

It did not feel like justice, but revenge. How was he, the king, justified in using his position to make others suffer? Stane died in combat, and Tony could feel no guilt over it- but to kill Sosa, in cold blood, and while certainly on paper it was for crimes against the crown, in truth it was for Steve more than the kingdom.

 

Why hadn’t Buchanan simply shot the bastard through the belly and saved them all the trouble?  

 

Gods, why couldn’t someone else…

 

Hmm.

 

Certainly they had no true power, but any who felt wronged by the king could go to-

 

That just might work.

 

*

The kingdom was in an uproar.  The King was stepping aside and letting the high priestess of the goddesses of battle, Justice, and the innocent, examine, judge, and sentence a Noble?  It was unprecedented! It was sensational!

 

“It’s bloody genius,” Bucky said bluntly as he relaxed at the private table with Steve and Tony after a long day of Court. “And the open courtroom, too. No one will be able to say you’re doing this covertly, that’s for certain!”

 

“That was the goal,” Tony said, the smooth custard tasting like ash in his mouth as Bucky fondly stroked Steve’s hair.  Gods, it hurt to see. He would almost sooner be alone than bear it. He waved them to their rooms, and retired for the evening to await the dawn.  He did not sleep.

 

The court room had been transformed to a trial room, with Tony’s throne moved back and the Priestess’s chair set before it, padded kneelers set on each side in front of it.  Two acolytes stood beside the chair, and Tony looked out over the gathered crowd, seated on hard backless benches, and his eyes rested over the cloaked Executor of the Will. He settled himself in his throne, and waited.  
  
The priestess entered, dipped her head to him and he nodded back deferentially. Natasha was a good priestess- she’d given Stane bloody hell and very nearly bloody teeth during the uprising. She did not care who was in power- in the eternal scheme, she explained, kings mattered little- but the way Stane had treated the people had raised her ire.  She’d granted sanctuaries and guarded Tony’s supporters without hesitation.   
  
That was why Tony had chosen her to stand in judgment, instead of High Priest Fury.  He had an agenda, and fingers in all of the pies. Natasha simply knew what went into all the pies, and occasionally threw one- and his metaphor was getting out of control, perhaps, but his mind was desperately avoiding thinking of those entering the room- Sosa, flanked by acolytes, and Steve, behind him.   
  
He hated this.   
  
Before Sosa could be tried, his marriage had to be annulled or a divorce granted.  Most saw Steve as a victim- but enough saw him as an opportunistic accomplice, if not the originator of the plan.   
  
So (his) sweet Steve also wore the white of a defendant, and would face Natasha.  
  
Tony’s toes curled in his boots as the room filled swiftly, now that all participants were in attendance, and the trial began.   
  
Gods.

 

*

Unlike his wedding, the annulment hearing dragged interminably. The white robes itched, and his bare feet felt cold and vulnerable.  He recoiled at every accidental brush Sosa made against him as they shared the kneeler. First, the acolyte spoke on Steve’s behalf- he wished full annulment and restoration of his single state as far as it be possible.  Sosa’s speaker informed those gathered that his husband had no wish to release him,but would allow for a divorce if Steve felt so hampered by his marriage and increased state.

 

Of course he’d allow a divorce, Steve fumed, he’d still be unable to testify against the prick! Sosa smirked and shifted his weight, his knee settling against Steve’s.  He kept his eyes forward, fixed on Tony’s hands, grounding himself in that comfort-

 

“Lord Steven,” the priestess spoke for the first time, “Rise, and cross to the other kneeler.” Her eyes were sharp and cold as she looked at Sosa.

 

Steve did as he was told.

 

When he was resettled, the priestess read out their vows and produced the writ of marriage. “Steven,” she said slowly, “Is this your mark?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Priestess, or nothing” she corrected with a small smile. “You came into the marriage without education?”

 

“I still have none, priestess.” Her eyes snapped to his face sharply, and her mouth went tight.

 

“Is there anything amiss with your eyes or hands?”

 

“No,” he said slowly, wondering at the question.

 

“You withheld the education due your husband’s status?” The woman hissed at Sosa.

 

“He did not show aptitude, or ask-“

 

“I did ask,” Steve muttered.

 

“Please wait to be asked to speak,” the priestess said kindly. “You requested to learn?”

 

“Yes, priestess,” Steve said, “It would be wonderful to read.” The priestess asked more questions, requesting what gifts Sosa had given while courting and after marriage, about Steve’s allowance and indulgences, and servants or ladies and gentlemen in waiting.  As she questioned, her face became blanker and blanker, and the crowd began to stir, murmuring as Sosa was unable to disprove any of Steve’s claims.

 

They were displeased on his behalf? Some of the rowdier amongst the crowd hissed when Sosa spoke.

 

“Lord Charles,” the priestess said, “Explain why you wished to wed Steven?”

 

“His personal charms are obvious,” Sosa said, his smile unperturbed and eyes cold, “And he proved himself a brave and honest man in the Uprising. Who would not wish to wed someone like that?”

 

“Who indeed,” the priestess said, slowly, “Lord Steven, why did you agree to wed Lord Sosa?”

 

Steve swallowed tightly, knowing that this was where trouble would come, "He named it the price for his lenience against a friend that had been falsely taken up for trespassing and poaching, when I went to beg his kindness, for a fair trial for my friend."

 

“These are lies! He wanted-“

 

“Silence!” She raised a hand, “You, my lord, know better than to speak out of turn.  What did he seek, your personal charms? If it was your money and status he desired, he did nothing to secure them,” the priestess sneered, her gaze sliding over Sosa. “This friend, how did his trial end?”

 

“It was not granted, though his life and limbs and person were kept whole,” Steve answered.

 

The crowd erupted, shouting and hissing at Sosa, and the priestess raised her hand, restoring order, even as she leaned forward to ask, “I would speak to him.”

 

Bucky stood, “That’s me, Priestess, James Buchanan.” A murmur ripples through the crowd- the Huntsman! The Huntsman who saved the king! Didn’t he-

 

“Huntsman,” she inclined her head, “Is it true, you were granted no trial?”

 

“I was not. I escaped when my keeper told me what Steve’d done.” He hesitated, “He, ah. He told me the Lord wasn’t kind to ‘im, and I-“

 

“I’m sorry, James Buchanan, but I cannot accept your hearsay,” she said kindly, “But I will grant you your trial in my court, at your earliest convenience.” She returned her attention to Sosa, “Have you any witnesses who can bear testimony otherwise? That this man was not imprisoned? That he was given trial?”

 

Sosa said nothing, glaring straight ahead.

 

“It is not a question then, of injury, but how grave an injury you have done to your spouse,” she said, “Steven, I am sorry to ask these questions of you in this forum, but-“

 

“It’s all right, priestess,” Steve said, “I was a soldier.”

 

“In keeping with that, did you enter the marriage untouched?”

 

Steve’s face burned, and he nodded, “Yes, priestess.”

 

“By both genders?”

 

“Yes,” he replied.

 

“Was the marriage consummated?”

 

“Yes.” Don’t think of it, don’t, not now, it’s of no matter-

 

“And did you perform your husbandly duties, and satisfy your husband?”

 

“When he came to me, I yielded,” Steve replied, and she tilted her head, looking at Sosa.

 

“I will not ask if he was faithful,” she said, “Because I have no desire to prolong your pain, and it will have little bearing on your annulment.  Were you faithful to him?”

 

Sosa’s acolyte raised a hand, “His lordship said that he was not.”

 

Steve watched as Tony’s hands convulsed on the arms of the throne. This… was where his world could come apart.

 

Sosa’s smile was smug, and Steve closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath.  “Lord Charles, be wary if you accuse without grounds,” The priestess warned.

 

“I did not want to do this,” Sosa said, his voice dripping sorrow his smile belied, “But my husband has slept every night with the King.” Collectively, the court took a breath.

 

“Has he,” The priestess said coolly, “You are sure of this?”

 

“I saw no other choice but to be gracious,” Sosa said, “When the king made his desires known- who would tell him no?”

 

“So you agreed to this?”

 

“Under duress.”

 

“Mm. That is not what I saw, Lord Sosa, when the King begged me send acolytes to preserve the integrity of his friend and fellow-noble.  I came alongside the healer, and examined your husband myself.” Steve’s stomach flipped and he looked at Tony. The king seemed to have been waiting for him to lift his eyes, because he gave Steve a small smile, expression flickering swift as a hummingbird’s wing. “He’d fainted from the pain of your pleasures,” she said coldly, “And I full and well expected him to come to me before this day to seek recompense in kind, at the very least. As it stands? The goddess will hear the cry of the innocent, Lord Charles, and the people will as well. Steven, son of Roger, you are held innocent and free of this man’s artifice. Love and marry as you will, and go with blessings and a clear heart to any whom your soul desires. For your suffering and lost innocence, due to your birth, I can do no more than force his lordship to pay your dowry, and no child of his body may assume his title, for he gave his honor over to you, and then held it in no esteem. Furthermore, as he has shamed you by this proceeding, when he might have dealt justly with you, he is sentenced to shame himself. He shall stand two hours in the square for all to see that the goddess will not tolerate coercion in marriage, nor shame. Does the crown commute all, or any part, of this sentence?”

 

“It does not,” Tony spoke, “The crown supports the decision of the temple, and will enforce the judgments declared.”

 

He was free.  He was free, with a Noble’s full dowry. He’d never have to endure hands upon him or be pressed open, and Bucky’s Justice was granted as well- the acolyte gently pulled him to his feet, and he bowed deeply to the priestess and the King before following him from the hall into bright sunlight, the cheers of the crowd melding into the sound of battle dinning in his ears.

 

Free.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home stretch! Please comment!


	17. Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sosa stands trial for his crimes.

The Priestess’s words echoed in Tony’s skull- Steve was free to love as he willed, to go to any his soul desired. His gaze fell on the Huntsman bitterly, but even with the anguish in his soul, he couldn’t wish Bucky ill, for to do so was to cause Steve suffering.  It was better- far better- that Steve be happy and blessed without him than to be unhappy with him.

 

He could enjoy the flowers of another man’s garden, and not covet them for himself. He could.

 

He would!

 

Perhaps with time.

 

The court adjourned for the day, and Steve came to him, James Buchanan in his wake. Steve was iridescent in his joy, the writ of annulment held tightly between his hands, even as he was careful not to crumple the paper. “It really- am I really, Tony?” He held it out to Tony and Tony’s heart broke. Well, and what of it, a King could weep for his subject’s joy!

 

He nodded, swallowing tightly, “Yes, my dear Steven,” he assured him, “You’re free of him.”

 

“And tomorrow,” Bucky clapped him on the shoulder, “This plane will be free of him and the gods can have him,” he said cheerily, “See how he stands in their judgment.”

 

Steve frowned, “I often wished to kill him,” he said slowly, “In the heat of a moment. But somehow, in cold blood- I find I only wish to be left alone.” He shrugged, “Just as well it’s not up to me.”

 

Tony smiled, “I still want to throw him flaming from the parapets.”

 

Bucky’s smile was all sharp teeth and wickedness, “I knew I liked you, Majesty.”

 

“What’s not to like?” Steve smiled at him warmly.

 

Like was not love, but he could learn to live on bread and water.

 

*

The trial proceeded apace, proof after proof of treason and treachery brought forth, and witnesses as well.  The priestess seemed bored by the parade, and finally cut off the lengthy presentation by the royal treasurer delineating the theft of coin, dry-goods, etc., asking the courtroom, “Does any deny that Lord Charles Sosa of Brooklyn Town attempted to take the throne by trickery and force, intended death to the rightful king, and abused the power of the throne? These are not the whole of his crimes, but those deemed most grievous,” No one spoke- not even Sosa.  “Well then,” she said, “All that is left is the sentencing. My lord, now is when you are given leave to plead your case.”

 

Sosa raised himself to his full height, sneer firmly in place on his face, “I only sought what was best for our people, priestess. The king is a philandering, lazy-“

 

“And yet, he is not on trial,” she said, “Very well. You are guilty by your own mouth; the King has given me dispensation to sentence you beyond the usual purview of the temple, even to death. However,” she smiled, slowly, cruelly, “In the past two days I have seen that you care little for anything but your pride and your person. Therefore, I sentence you thusly: you are stripped of rank, lands, and wealth. These will be returned to the crown to bestow as it sees fit. You took a loyal Huntsman’s freedom from him, and did not grant the basest modicum of dignity to your own husband. Had you done so, this second sentence would be commuted. You will lose the bow-fingers of your right hand, that you may not draw bow nor write. You will be flogged out of the Capitol, and turned onto the land to live in penury and off the charity of others. Thus is justice served.”

 

“You cannot-“ Sosa broke out frantically, “No-“

 

“I already have,” she said, lifting her hand, “Take him forth.”

 

“Mercy!” Sosa screamed as he was dragged out, “Majesty, I cry your mercy, let me hang-“

 

Tony turned his face away, and looked towards where Steve stood at his side, pale and stalwart, eyes raised to the stained glass rosette set in the wall.  Seeking beauty, even now, Tony thought, and pulling himself from what he cannot bear to see.

 

“Steven!” The wretched man shrieked, “Cry mercy on my behalf, I cannot bear it-“

 

Tony stood, and left the courtroom, Steve in his place behind him, the screams and sobs growing distant.

 

“It’s over,” he said, almost to himself, and Steve did not answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter!!!


	18. Titles and Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We come to the end of our journey- and you know journeys end in lover’s meetings.

Tony gave Audi his head as they got out of sight of the Keep, leaning into the horse’s stride and enjoying the rarity of the moment.  He’d escaped his escort, and was alone instead of simply lonely. Summer had fled and left Autumn the victor over the fields, the last stands of wheat harvested and leaving stubbly golden straw instead of rich green. Winter would follow soon enough, he knew, and could feel the opening salvos of it in the frosty air, but the sun was still warm, and there was still color instead of dour grey and brown.  Not that he’d truly been able to appreciate the beauty of his lands over the summer, with Steve gone back to rebuild Brooklyn Town with his Dear Bucky.

 

Steve sent him a message or two weekly, shaky letters spaced oddly as he learned to write, and beautiful drawings of the work being done on the new Keep, a few rich-tinted paintings of the greenwood between Brooklyn and the capitol, and a deer, strolling along a city alleyway, unconcerned with the man shaking a hay fork at it as it ate apple mash alongside a horse.  Tony laughed himself sick at that picture, remembering the pleasant evening, so early in knowing Steve.

 

He came to the top of a knoll, reining Audi in to overlook the vista sprawling before him, and there, as if summoned by his bedamned longing, approaching over the lowland trek, came Steve.  He’d know those colors anywhere, bright blue and rich red, white star emblazoned- and riding alone. He waved an arm and hallooed, the reply coming back immediately, “Hallo the King!”

 

His smile made his cheeks ache.

 

“You’re early,” he said when Steve was in comfortable speaking distance, “I hadn’t thought to see you arrive until Court was in session properly.”

 

“Bucky told me to go,” Steve shrugged, “Said I may as well come be a help to you, preparing for Court, as a hinderance at home.” His cheeks flushed at that, and Tony did his best not to groan at how Steve might hinder James’ progress… unbidden his mind recalled the way Steve’s neck curved as he bent over the chessboard, lips bitten red in thought as they played, and that kiss-

 

“When are you and Bucky going to stop shillyshallying and wed?” Tony asked, laughing brightly as they rode together from the knoll down to the stream, their horses splashing through the ford and up the embankment, into the forest.  

 

“What?” Steve’s frown was audible, “Why should we wed?”

 

“Once bitten, twice shy?” Tony winced at how thoughtless the question had been- Steve could have no fondness for marriage, with his experiences. “Forgive me, I didn’t think- you’re of equal rank, he wouldn’t have- ah, damn it, Steve, I didn’t mean-“

 

“That wasn’t a marriage,” Steve waved a hand, “I’ve no particular wish to avoid the institution itself, but- why should I wed Bucky?”

 

Tony tilted his head, pulling Audi to a halt, Nomad, his parting gift to Steve, following suit with his old stable-mate, “When one is in love, one generally wants-“

 

*

 

Steve’s heart leapt with joy when he heard Tony’s halloo, and he shouted back an answer even as he spurred Nomad to a canter to meet the King, who was- apparently- riding alone.  Thank the Gods Steve had come along, that wasn’t safe- though there was no telling Tony no, now, was there? He answered the Kong’s questions easily enough- no need to tell him Bucky had thrown his hands up and shouted at him for being a damned-fool-besotted-bastard which had ended in a very un-Noble-like wrestling match as Steve and Bucky settled their disagreement as two gutter-boys would- though with somewhat less hairpulling.

 

But- wed? Why would he marry- Tony thought…

 

Oh. Oh, no.

 

So much became suddenly clear, and Steve felt a simultaneous twisting in his guts and leap in his heart.  The King might still, perhaps- he’d thought, that after all Tony had seen, all Steve had told him, and then the trial itself, that Tony had realized Steve was right. That Tony would regret anything more than a hand in friendship, and should not desire Steve as a consort, illicit or not.

 

After all, having a man lie beaten and bloody on one’s clean sheets, with another man’s seed on his skin could dampen even the most ardent of affections- or cool the most heated lusts.  Steve never could bear to bring himself to think of that horrible time without flushing in agonized shame, every moment tainted by the sorrow in Tony’s gaze, the pity in each gentle touch.

 

Then there had been the Tower, and while perhaps they could have submitted to their more base instincts, Steve had not had the will to, and Tony, well, he’d been so on edge- so terrified, clinging to Steve, that there’d been no energy for desires beyond the most chaste of comforts.

 

And then Bucky had come, and Steve saw suddenly how it would look to one unfamiliar with Bucky and his peculiar brand of friendship, nay, brotherhood.  Gods, he’d kissed Bucky, as always.

 

“I’m not in love with Bucky,” Steve blurted, his face aflame, “Gods, no! We would- no. Can you imagine? We tried to kiss, when we were young-“ (you still are young, Tony muttered, but Steve pressed on), “And Bucky said that while there was nothing wrong with my person, there was also nothing right with it, which was, let me tell you, a relief, as kissing him was, well, I, I certainly felt no excitement.” Not as he’d felt when Tony kissed him over the chessboard.  He longed for that, the lightest of touches-

 

“Ah. My mistake. Are you hungry?” Tony asked, face flat and voice bland- he was uncomfortable, Steve knew, and he hoped, maybe- “There’s a nice clearing, we could stop to eat before we turn towards home.”

 

“I can always eat,” Steve said, desperate to keep the King to himself for even a little longer, “Lead on.”

 

The clearing was beautiful, sky crystal blue above them, a burbling little brook cutting through it, with soft grassy banks. Steve dismounted and reached to offer his arm to Tony, who rolled his eyes but accepted it. Steve felt the light weight of him for a treasured moment, his hand settling on his waist and sliding along the fabric of his doublet. “I’ve bread and cheese, nice venison pasty,” he said, “And some sweet apples - I brought no ale,” though.” He spread out his groundcloth and put his cloak upon it to offer some warmth- despite the sun, the ground was cold, and he would not want Tony to take a chill.

 

“I’ve a sweet bun and some nuts, and I do have some fine ale,” Tony said, opening his saddlebag and taking the packet of food from it, unfolding the waxed paper, “it’s as if we planned this feast,” he grinned, mischievous as any boy as they surveyed their nice little supper - perhaps a little scant in quantity, but Steve would almost relish the feeling of hunger on the last of the ride home, to know that Jarvis would have a hot meal prepared, that he and Tony would done together, “Next year, we should, when you return to me again from Brooklyn Town, we should meet here and dine,” his eyes lit up as he looked down at where Steve knelt on the mantle, “Perhaps even swim.”

 

Steve was reminded abruptly of Tony’s dream in the Tower, of climbing trees, of building a fort, and he reached out to take Tony’s hand in both of his. “Tony,” he said, his words coming out over the choking of his throat, “We can do better, can we not? I believe- I believe you said we might build a fort. Where- where we might escape the court, and be our own men.  I would build that with you.”

 

Tony’s lips parted, eyes wide as he looked down at Steve, and confusion fled before knowledge, which was chased by joy as the King reached his other hand and cupped Steve’s cheek. Steve leaned into the caress, and dared press a kiss to the inside of Tony’s wrist, more than half-pleading. “Oh,” Tony said softly, “Oh, my beautiful, beautiful Steven,” he whispered, barely louder than the stream, “I would build that with you,” he said, “But that were I to be with you as our own men, I do not know that I could bear to let you go to Brooklyn Town and leave me, e’en with the promise of a reunion.”

 

“Then take back the title of Lord of Brooklyn Town,” Steve said, “And give me another.”

 

Tony smiled brightly, “So bold, my brave one? What would you have me title you, hmm?”

 

“Whatever you wish,” Steve shuffled closer on his knees, leaning forward to lay his head against Tony’s thigh, “If only you call me your own.”

 

Tony bent and kissed his forehead, “Always mine,” he said, “I desired you the moment you came through the doors of my court. I loved you since you spoke to me as a man, not a Noble.” He slid his hand to cup the back of Steve’s neck, fingers threading into the fine hair as he knelt in front of Steve, but somehow still above him, leaning in to bring their lips together.  This kiss left no bitter aftertaste, had no fear or shame darkening it, and Steve whimpered into Tony’s mouth, clinging to his shoulders even as Tony’s clever fingers slid between the bindings of his tunic and found skin, warm and soft to his work-roughened fingertips. “I find the title pleases me.”

 

Steve groaned softly, closing his eyes to better feel the King against him- and Tony pulled back, panting. “Tony?” He pleaded, blinking at him, “Why-“

 

“I could have you here, upon this mantle under the sky,” Tony panted, pressing his mouth to Steve’s throat, “Gods, and to have you so- but we must still ride back to the Keep, and I would not wish your memory of our first pleasures to be tainted by an uncomfortable after.”

 

“I don’t mind, sire, please-“ tony pressed a finger against his lip, smiling at him warmly.

 

“But I do, my darling,” Tony purred, “So say no more, and let us enjoy this repast and take haste to return.  After the evening meal, I will take you to my chambers, and from then on,” he kissed him again, deep and sweet, pulling back and leaving Steve breathless, “You will sleep nowhere but at my side,” he said, “Nor shall I separate myself from you, or find pleasure in any other.”

 

“Everyone will know,” Steve warned, cutting the pasty in half because if he did not, he would fling himself at the king and plead to be permitted to pleasure him.  

 

“Steve,” Tony said, “Of course everyone will know.  That’s rather the point. And, to ensure that all fully understand, you and I will be wed over the high holydays.”

 

Wed? “Tony?” He’d never expected- he’d thought only of his companionship, of his love and friendship and, yes, that they might take pleasure together, but-  “I did not imagine you would wish to marry me,” he said.

 

“And why not?” Tony glared at him as he crunches on an apple, pasty held firmly in his other hand, “Why should I be denied the consort of my choosing?”

 

“I had thought for nothing more than honorable concubinage,” Steve admitted, and Tony rolled his eyes.

 

“The ladies of the court would have my balls,” Tony said, “No. Also, pass the ale, holding myself back from giving you a green gown is thirsty work.”

 

Steve laughed, passing the flask and throwing an apple at Tony for his dirty humor.

 

*

The ride and dinner seemed interminable, and Tony cursed roundly as he was called away before they could depart for his rooms for the evening.  However, Jarvis took Steve to the King’s rooms and left him with a steaming bath, and his things set tidily inside Tony’s massive wardrobe. Throughout the brief emergency meeting- which was no true emergency, only a hysterical Noble fretting over his Court contributions- Tony imagined Steve in his rooms, bathing, dressing for bed, and ached to go to bed himself, knowing the sheets would be warmed by his beloved.

 

Sure enough, when he made his way to his bedroom, the torches were out and only the fire and some candles remained lit, and his bed had a very Steve-shaped lump in it.  Tony’s breath caught in his throat, and he stood, simply looking upon all that was his.

 

He wasn’t alone.

 

Steve stirred, sitting up in the bed and blinking at him with sleep-sweet warmth, “Tony?”

 

“Here, darling.”

 

“Mm. Too far away.” The nightshirt he wore slipped from one shoulder, and Tony’s mouth went dry as he let his gaze fall on the exposed skin.  He would press his mouth there, he decided, taste for himself. He kicked off his boots, and stripped as quickly as he could, feeling Steve’s eyes on him. He left his smallclothes on, and slipped into the bed, immediately enveloped by the most delicious warmth.  

 

“Better?” He asked, and Steve burrowed to his side, their bare feet tangling together, and Tony’s hands slid up under Steve’s nightshirt, dizzy with want as he felt that Steve was bare beneath, his eyes hooded and dark and lips parted as he looked at Tony with hunger.

 

“Much,” Steve said, softly, undoing the last ties on the shirt and laying himself bare to Tony, giving him a gift of unbearable beauty.

 

“Good,” Tony whispered, pressing kisses where his hands were not, “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me! If you’ve enjoyed this story, please drop me a line! I’d love to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! A few quick notes:
> 
> This is a bastard child of medieval-fantasy, Georgian era, and some Victorian elements (gearwork, etc.) thrown in for good measure. It’s Britain-ish. 
> 
> Please comment! Comments keep me fed and warm and writing!


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